


shades of purple

by positivelystisaac



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Slow Burn, because i need more about them, fckin cuties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 39,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5660713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positivelystisaac/pseuds/positivelystisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>beth johanssen meets chris beck and it's the first time since she got to nasa that she hasn't felt completely alone.<br/>chris beck meets beth johanssen and it's the first time he roots for anyone other than himself. </p><p>(or, beck and johanssen fall in like, love, hate, and mutual annoyance. not necessarily in that order.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ultraviolet

“Shit,” was the first word Chris Beck ever heard Beth Johanssen say. Three years later, if you managed to make it all the way to Mars to remind him of this, Beck would have found it just as charming as he did that first day at 6:52 AM in the NASA break room. 

Beth Johanssen was in the middle of her first night shift as an official NASA employee. She had been called in last minute to come in and write code that was apparently urgent, although she didn’t see why someone else couldn’t have done it. All things considered, she didn’t really care, because the overtime she would make in one night was more than she would make in a week at the ice cream shop she worked at in high school. What she did mind, was her tablet trying to slip out from underneath her chin, where it was pinned to her chest as she tried to pour her fourth cup of coffee since arriving a little after midnight. 

“Shit,” she hissed, spilling a few drops of the hot coffee onto her fingers as she shifted abruptly in an attempt to keep NASA’s very expensive tablet from slipping. In the process, she knocked the small bowl of Equal packets onto the ground and nearly tipped her coffee over as well.

“Need a hand?” Beck asked, rising from his chair and crossing the room to the coffee station. 

“What I need is stronger coffee,” she mumbled, placing her tablet safely on the counter. “Seriously, do they even caffeinate this crap?”

“You know, caffeine intoxication begins to occur around the ingestion of 300 milligrams. Every eight ounces of standard brewed coffee has a little over 150 milligrams, and this is your third 16 ounce cup since I got here at midnight. That’s over 900 milligrams in like seven hours, but about half of it has already worn off. I mean, you’re still looking at like 450 milligrams so you should probably switch to decaf anyway,” he said, leaning down to pick up the Equal packets. 

“Fourth,” is all she replied, head down as she grabbed a lid and fit it into place. 

“What?” he asked, placing the bowl back on the counter. 

“It’s my fourth cup, not my third. You were in the bathroom when I got my last cup like an hour ago.”

“You were stalking me?” he asked with a smile. 

“Nope,” she replied, taking a long sip of her coffee before finally looking up. “I saw you walk into the bathroom on my way in here. And you’re the one keeping track of my caffeine intake down to the milligram, so if there’s a stalker here, it’s clearly you.”

He couldn’t help but smile, extending his hand. “Dr. Chris Beck, Human Performance Studies.” It was the first time she saw him smile. Three years later, if you managed to make it all the way to Mars to remind her of this, she would tell you it was the first time she felt like she had a friend at NASA. And then she would tell you to leave her alone until she had another cup of coffee. 

“Beth Johanssen, under-caffeinated,” she shook his hand, surprisingly firmer than he had expected. “And unless you’re about to perform surgery on me, don’t introduce yourself as ‘doctor.’ That’s pompous as fuck,” she added before grabbing her tablet and walking out before he could even think of a response. 

He spent the next two hours looking up from his work every time someone walked into the break room, silently hoping it would be her. When his shift ended at ten and she hadn’t returned, he took longer than usual to pack his things up and went to clock out. 

She saw him around every once in awhile over the next few weeks. Sometimes, she'd look up from her tablet long enough to sneak a glance into the break room as she walked past and catch him buried in work. Other times, she'd hack into the security system to see if he was working the same shift. And one time, she stayed up until three AM looking into every bit of his online footprint she could find. Three years later, if you managed to make it all the way to Mars to ask her about this, she would deny it. 

He caught glimpses of her here and there over the next several weeks. She never looked up from her tablet in time to make eye contact, and he was too scared to find her office and initiate conversation. He did, however, spend every shift in the break room. That first day it was because the regularly scheduled night crew was in the HPS offices, and he had picked up an extra night shift to finish compiling a few reports. The sixteen days after that were because he wanted to increase his odds of running into her, although the chances of getting him to admit this were about as good as the odds Johanssen would fess up to all the Beck-related cyberstalking she did. 

He dreaded the end of the seventeenth day, because he knew he would have to start more lab work the following morning, meaning his break room days were over. He reluctantly packed up his things and tried to figure out how someone so dependent on caffeine could make it nearly three weeks without it. Then he passed a vending machine stocked with Red Bull and another coffee station on his way to clock out, and wondered how it took him nearly three weeks to realize the break room wasn't the only place to get a caffeine fix. He consequently the hell he got hired by NASA, given he apparently had the observational skills of a goldfish. 

As he rounded the corner to the room housing the time clocks, he saw a familiar set of tiny legs poking out from beneath an enormous black hoodie, about ten steps ahead of him. He quickly closed the distance between them. 

“Doctor Chris Beck, Human Performance Studies,” she said, glancing up at him from that godforsaken tablet as they fell into stride. “Stalk anyone else since the last time we talked?”

“No, Beth Johanssen, under-caffeinated, I did not. Just you,” he replied. “And shit, that sounded creepy. I meant that in the least creepy way possible.”

“Careful, Doctor. Don’t dig yourself a deeper hole,” she teased as she punched out, slipping her tablet into her bag.

“Chris is fine,” he replied. “Or Beck. Just not Doctor. That’s pompous as fuck, you know.”  He didn't miss the way the corners of her lips tugged up in a quick grin. 

“How about Doc?” she asked thoughtfully, watching him clock out. 

“Absolutely not,” Beck was quick to respond, shaking his head. 

“Alright,” Johanssen conceded as they walked back down the hallway. “Beck it is, I guess.”

“What is it you do, anyway? Unless under-caffeinated is your official position. In which case, I would love to know how the government recruited you.”

It was the first time Beck heard Johanssen laugh. Three years later, if you managed to make it all the way to Mars to ask him about it, he would tell you that he still finds her laugh just as endearing. “Right now I’m writing code for some apparently important project that NASA isn’t telling me enough about. Technically I’m a software developer. Trying to get to space, though.”

“Aren’t we all?” Beck asked with a laugh. “You close?”

“Who knows,” she shrugged. “I feel like this project, whatever it is, could help me. I’m trained in SysOp and I’m almost finished my specialization in Redactor Tech. And I headed the team that developed the software for  _ Hermes _ , but-”

“Back up,” he interrupted. “You did  _ what _ ?”

“Oh,  _ Hermes _ ? Yeah. I met Brett Parker from SpaceX a couple years back. Helped him write some code and one thing led to another and I was in charge of the team that developed a lot of the software.”

“You should lead with that,” Beck said.

“Like how you lead with introducing yourself as  _ Doctor  _ Chris Beck?” she shot back playfully.

“Exactly,” Beck smiled. 

As they crossed the parking lot to their respective cars, Johanssen realized it was the first time someone told her they wanted to go to space and her heart didn’t beat a little faster with the knowledge of added competition. 

“Goodnight, Doctor,” she offered as she threw her bag into the backseat of her car. Beck raised an eyebrow in response. Johanssen rolled her eyes, flicking him off. " Fine. Goodnight, Beck.” 

“Goodnight, Johanssen.” Beck got into his car, wondering if she would actually make it to space. And for the first time since he got to NASA, he found himself rooting for someone other than himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there isn't enough out there about these guys, so i had to do my best to remedy the situation. let me know if it's worth continuing!
> 
> (also, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. and the title comes from 'for him." by troye sivan. aaaand each chapter will be named for a different song that fits what's going on)


	2. How I Want Ya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just changed the name of this story so sorry if that confused anyone! but the new title has more meaning which will be explained in another couple of chapters (it comes from the song "for him." by troye sivan if you want to listen)
> 
> thanks so much for the really lovely comments you left me- i'm about to go respond to all of them. hope you enjoy!

“So your break room days are over?” Johanssen asks a couple weeks later, after running into Beck at one of the vending machines. They've been bumping into each other here and there and chatting each time, even if it's just a moment or two of playful banter as they cross paths. They've even run into each other in the cafeteria a couple of times, resulting in impromptu lunches together. Beck is especially happy he's managed not to reprimand too much her for the record breaking caffeine consumption he's been forced to witness. Johanssen is especially happy she's managed to find out even more about him that she couldn't find online. 

“For now,” he replies. “I have my office back and I’ve been in the lab a lot lately. Y’know, cause I’m a doctor?” 

“Are you a doctor?” Johanssen feigns surprise. “I had no idea! Tell me more!”

Beck rolls his eyes. “Not gonna live that one down, am I?” 

“Not ever.” 

Beck makes a show of pouting. “Did they ever tell you what they have you working on?” he asks.

“Figured it out myself, actually,” Johanssen replies, opening a Red Bull and ignoring Beck’s raised eyebrows. “I finally got tired of being kept in the dark a couple of days ago. It was easy, though. Just had to hack into some emails, so it took like five minutes. Which reminds me- I should probably tell someone the firewall here sucks.” 

Beck looks at her incredulously. “You hacked into official NASA emails? You’re… I mean… can’t you lose your job for that if they find out?”

She shrugs. “I won hackathon once. They should have known what they were getting themselves into when they hired me.”

“You’re not even a little scared that they’ll fire you?” Beck asks.

“Not really. I mean, I know how to be careful and everything. I didn’t leave any traces so unless you snitch on me, I should be in the clear,” she replies, leaning against the vending machine, staring into Beck’s eyes questioningly. “You’re not a snitch, are you?” 

“Nope,” Beck says, popping the ‘p’. 

“Good,” Johanssen grins, taking another sip of Red Bull. “Snitches get stitches.” 

She’s gone before Beck can grill her for details on how she casually won hackathon. When he gets back to his desk, he sends her an email before he can chicken out.

\---

 ** _from:_** [**_c.beck@nasa.gov_**](mailto:cbeck@nasa.gov)

 **_to:_ ** [ **_e.johanssen@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**_subj: <no subject>_ **

 

**How dare you leave before indulging me in your hackathon story? I feel robbed.**

 

**Dr. Christopher O. Beck**

**Human Performance Studies/Astronaut Candidate**

**Email:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 1352**

 

**PS: Red Bull actually has a little less caffeine than the brand of coffee they brew here.**

 --

As soon as he hits send, his brain goes into overdrive. He silently panics if looking up her email and writing to her is too much, if he’s totally overstepping, if she’s going to get totally freaked out and never talk to him again. But then again, it’s nothing bad. Just a friendly question. Nothing to freak out about. But at the same time, he could have just waited to ask the next time he sees her in person. He probably crossed a line by emailing her. Shit. She won’t report him to HR for harassment or anything, right? He rereads the email four times over. He’s not coming on really strong or anything, right? It can’t be considered unwanted attention? He slams his laptop shut, forcing himself to take a deep breath and stop freaking out. It’s just an email. Worst case scenario, she ignores him. Right?

Within a minute, his phone buzzes.

\--

 **_from:_ ** [ **_e.johanssen@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**_to:_ ** [ **_c.beck@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**_subj: RE: <no subject>_ **

 

**then it’s a good thing i’m chasing with mountain dew right??**

**ps: change your signature, you pompous fuck**

 

**Elizabeth L. Johanssen**

**Software Development/SysOp/Astronaut Candidate**

**Email:** [ **e.johanssen@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 4471**

**\--**

He reads her response once, twice, then a third time for good measure. His heart rate has returned to normal (although it picked up again when he saw her swear in an official NASA email) and he’s breathed several sighs of relief.

He almost thanks her for not reporting him to HR for harassment, but he deletes it at the last second.

**\--**

**_from:_** [**_c.beck@nasa.gov_**](mailto:cbeck@nasa.gov)

 **_to:_ ** [ **_e.johanssen@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**_subj: RE: <no subject>_ **

 

**Your heart’s going to stop and then you’ll never make it to space.**

 

**Dr. Christopher O. Beck**

**Human Performance Studies/Astronaut Candidate**

**Email:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 1352**

 

**PS: Don’t think I missed you dodging my hackathon question.**

**\--**

After he sends his reply, he manages to get an hour of work done before there’s a soft knock on the door to the lab. He looks up and has to force himself to suppress his excitement when he sees it’s Johanssen. “What are you doing here?” he asks with a small smile, wondering if Johanssen caught his eyes light up.

“Came to slum it with the doctors, duh.” She looks around the room before glancing up at him, noticing immediately how happy he looks. Her heartbeat quickens the same way it did in middle school when she talked to her schoolyard crush. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” he replies, shrugging off his lab coat. 

She smiles. “Good. We can go eat and you can bitch at me while I re-caffeinate.” 

“So hackathon?” Beck asks as they sit down in the NASA cafeteria. Johanssen sighs loudly, rolling her eyes, to which Beck laughs out loud. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me! You had to have known this was coming! So you were always interested in NASA?”

“Not really, actually. Right after I graduated high school, I decided to do hackathon. Just for shits, you know, see if I could actually finish one of the challenges. I had planned to try the easy challenge, but it was too simple. Just basic design and development for an app that NASA could load onto the astronaut tablets that would let them communicate with Earth without interfering with any of the SysOp.” 

“Right,” Beck nods sarcastically. “Child’s play.”

“Oh shut up. I decided to try the advanced challenge, so I designed and coded a software that could be used to process light waves in real time from a satellite without cues from Earth.” 

“You were able to do that at eighteen?!” Beck almost chokes on his water.

“Seventeen, actually. I graduated at sixteen and then spent a year interning at Microsoft before my undergrad.”

Beck is clearly impressed, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. “So how’d you wind up here?”

“So after I finished undergrad, I took another year off. This time, I started my own private software company. Ran into Brett Parker from SpaceX at a conference, he recruited me for the _Hermes_ software, and the rest is history. I just finished my fourteen months of training so I’m officially an astronaut candidate now, so that’s exciting I guess. But other than that, here I am. Under-caffeinated, under-appreciated, and surprisingly adequately paid.” 

“Wow,” is all Beck can think to say. “I mean…. wow.”

“Oh, come on,” Johanssen protests. “ I want to hear about the incredible Doctor Christopher Beck. I’m sure that’s a pretty good story.”

“You mean you haven’t gone on some hacking spree in the name of finding out more about me?” Beck teases.

“You got me,” Johanssen replies with a grin, placing her hands in the air in mock surrender. 

Beck thinks she’s joking, which of course she’s not. He shrugs. “Pretty boring story, actually. Uh, med school at Yale and then I was a field surgeon with the Air Force for a couple years. I left the Air Force to study a lot more about aerospace medicine and wound up writing a book about it. Then I went to the Air Force Reserves. I was recruited three years ago after NASA saw a talk I gave on aerospace medicine and the performance of the human body in space. I started here as a researcher for a project on how age affects a body in space and then moved onto astronaut training at their suggestion followed by EVA specialization. Right now I’m leading a project on the effect of space travel on life expectancy.”

“Look at you, hot shot,” she teases. “And you went to space last year. You forgot to mention that.”

“Because that’s, and I quote, pompous as fuck,” Beck answers.

“Someone really, really smart must have taught you that,” Johanssen grins. “You really downplayed yourself.”

“Is that so?” Beck asks.

“Yep. You neglected to mention all the awards you’ve won, the fact that you were a Captain in the Reserves, and the fact that the talk you gave was a TEDTalk. And also, that as of last week, you’re number two on the short list for the next trip to the space station,” Johanssen replies. Upon Beck’s surprised look, she adds “and you thought I was joking about looking you up.”

 He nods, silent for a minute. “Thorough,” he finally says.

“Sorry!” Johanssen answers quickly, seeing that the light in his eyes has dimmed. “I’m sorry. That probably totally creeped you out. I, uh, I know I should stop doing that when I meet new people, but I just-”

“No! No, sorry. Don’t worry. I’m not creeped out,” he shakes his head. “I promise. Just trying to figure out who beat me out for the number one spot.” 

Johanssen shrugs, relieved. “Some pilot. But I also know that the final meeting to pick the candidates is today.” 

“Do you know his name?” Beck asks. 

“Yes. But I’m not telling you. If you kill him or something just so you can be number one I don’t want to be involved,” Johanssen says. 

“I’m not going to do anything to him!” Beck protests. “I just need to stalk him and figure out where he beat me. It couldn’t have been in training stats, because I was top of my class. And there’s no way it-” 

“Beck, stop!” Johanssen cuts him off. “I had no idea you were this competitive or else I wouldn’t have told you. You’re gonna blow an aneurysm overthinking this.”

“Actually, medically that would be impossible, because-”

“Oh my god stop!” Johanssen can’t help but laugh. “It’s a figure of speech, you crazy person.”

“I know it is,” Beck replies. “I’m just saying, it would be-” 

“No more!” Johanssen leans across the table and covers his mouth with her hand, ignoring the way her heart beats a little faster with the contact. “You’re not listening to me. They’re going to let you guys know today.” 

Beck freezes. “Wait, seriously? We’re not supposed to hear back until the end of the month!” 

Johanssen nods. “Yep. They’re making notifications at the end of the day shift today. In two months you could be in space again, _Doctor_.” 

“Don’t jinx me! And don’t call me Doctor,” he tries to hold back his smile but fails. The huge grin spreading across his face garners a giggle from Johanssen. 

“Whatever you say, Doctor.”

“So are you on the list?” Beck asks, silently hopeful that she is. 

She shakes her head. “Nope. I applied for the next trip. They need a systems operator so I’m hoping I get picked. I know they’re going to pick the next Ares team at the end of the year and I’m dying to go. So I’m praying I get to go up at least once before then. There’s no way they’ll pick someone without space travel experience.” 

Beck nods. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to go up. I actually saw this report done in my department a few months back, and it turns out the ideal candidates for space travel are females between twenty and thirty. Fewer calories needed means less food necessary which means less weight on the ship. So you have an advantage there.” 

“Whatever you say, Doctor,” she repeats with a small smile, finishing off her coffee. He shakes his head, to which she winks, pulling a Red Bull out of her hoodie and cracking the top. 

As Beck would come to know in the time that followed, Johanssen was right about just about everything. And this was no exception. Sure enough, he's notified at the end of his shift that his application has been accepted and he has been selected to fly to Houston for mission-specific training for a month-long trip to the ISS.

He practically skips to his car, trying to keep his excitement at bay in attempts to remain professional, at least until he’s off NASA property and can call his sister and freak out.

The second he gets off the phone with his sister, he shoots Johanssen an email.

\--

 ** _from:_** [**_c.beck@nasa.gov_**](mailto:cbeck@nasa.gov)

 **_to:_ ** [ **_e.johanssen@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**_subj: <no subject>_ **

 

**So can you pick lotto numbers for me?**

 

**DOCTOR/CAPTAIN/ALL AROUND GREAT PERSON Christopher O. Beck**

**Human Performance Studies/FUTURE ASTRONAUT**

**Email:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 1352**

**\--**

Johanssen has been begged to work overtime in an attempt to pick up the slack of the other developers before the 0500 deadline the following morning. She sighs, looking over all the work that they didn’t get done and knowing she’ll likely be working until the last second. She sees Beck’s email when she checks her inbox to see if she’s been granted the permission to use the upstairs computer lab that she had requested. She eagerly opens it, and as she hurries to read it, she can’t help the huge smile that creeps onto her face.

**_\--_ **

**_from:_ ** [ **_e.johanssen@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**_to:_ ** [ **_c.beck@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**_subj: RE: <no subject>_ **

 

**so glad to see you took my advice regarding your signature. this one is MUCH better. 10/10!**

 

**Elizabeth L. Johanssen**

**Software Development/SysOp/Astronaut Candidate**

**Email:** [ **e.johanssen@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 4471**

 

**ps: i just did the math and there is a 1/274,845,1398 chance you win the lottery. my sage advice is as follows: save your $2.**

**pps: congrats. from all the stalking i did, i know for sure that you’re one of the best guys for the team and really deserving of the spot. i would have said it earlier but i didn’t want to jinx you (any more than i already had, apparently). i assume you leave monday with the rest of the team for training in which case, when you get back from space i call dibs on an hour of your time for celebratory drinks!**

  **\--**

Once he finishes calling everyone else, he changes his clothes and settles down on the couch to finish the last of his work. The first thing he does upon opening his computer is check for a response from Johanssen.

His heart rate speeds up a little when he sees her reply. He smiles to himself, eagerly typing back.

\--

 ** _from:_** [**_c.beck@nasa.gov_**](mailto:cbeck@nasa.gov)

 **_to:_ ** [ **_e.johanssen@nasa.gov_ ** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**_subj: RE: <no subject>_ **

 

**I’m going to be speaking with IT first thing tomorrow morning about having my signature permanently changed. Thanks for the feedback!**

**And thank you. If by some act of God you manage not to die of caffeine intoxication by the time I get back, you can have as much of my time as you want, even though I typically make it a point not to slum it with non-doctors. I guess I’ll make an exception just this once. Unless you order coffee at the bar. I have to draw the line somewhere.**

**But seriously, thank you. It does mean a lot.**

 

**DOCTOR/CAPTAIN/ALL AROUND GREAT PERSON Christopher O. Beck**

**Human Performance Studies/FUTURE ASTRONAUT**

**Email:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 1352**

 

**PS: Those odds could be worse. I stand by my original request.**

 


	3. Ride

Several months go by before they see each other again. It winds up being a total accident, too. Beck’s been back for a little over a week but has been carted around to meetings, press conferences, appointments with doctors, psychologists, and even the president. He finally has a day to himself before he officially returns to work, and despite the protests of his sister and all the higher-ups at NASA, he decides to go to the lab to get a jump start on finishing his reports. As soon as he parks his car, he sees her. She’s walking towards her car, eyes fixed on her tablet, massive hoodie swallowing up her small frame as usual. He smiles to himself, glad to see nothing has changed. 

“Johanssen!” he yells excitedly, all but jumping out of his car. She looks up, squinting before her face lights up as she realizes it’s him.

“No way!” she yells back, turning to walk towards him. “He lives!” 

“He lives,” Beck confirms.

Johanssen wraps him in a hug. “So how was it? Better than the first time?”

He shrugs. “Pretty uneventful, actually."

“Oh my god,” she laughs in response. “You sound like such a douche.”

“Just being honest,” Beck argues. 

Johanssen smiles softly. “It’s good to have you back. Douchiness and all.”

Beck rolls his eyes. “You headed home?” he asks. 

She nods. “Yep. You’re working the night shift your first shift back? That’s brutal, even for NASA.”

“I’m not due back until Thursday, actually. Thought I’d come in tonight- off the clock- to get a head start on putting together some reports.”

“You’re ridiculous. I mean, I know better than to expect anything less, but still. Ridiculous,” Johanssen says fondly. “Oh! Ask me if anything exciting happened while you were gone,” she instructs. 

“Well you haven’t overcaffeinated to the point of death while I was away as I had kind of expected,” Beck deadpans.

“Oh, fuck you,” Johanssen shoves his shoulder playfully before placing her hands on her hips. “Now ask me!”

“Did anything exciting happen in my absence?” Beck asks before adding, “Although I assume not, considering I am  _ the _ greatest thing to happen to NASA and I was 249 miles away from Earth. But please, humor me.”

“First of all, you are the worst. Second of all, my application was accepted and I got picked to go up next,” Johanssen tries to keep a straight face, but can’t stop the excited smile creeping onto her face from breaking her composure.

“Shut up!” Beck says excitedly. “Seriously?”

“What, you don’t think I actually made it?” Johanssen teases. 

Beck’s eyes widen. “What? No! I didn’t mean that as like, I genuinely doubt you or anything, I just meant it as-”

“Just messing with you, Beck.”

“I’m, uh, I’m happy for you, Beth. Really happy,” Beck says, and something about the way he uses her first name and the way his eyes soften as they fix on her face erases any lingering doubt she had that he didn’t mean it.

“Thanks,” she replies. And she means it, too. “Coming from someone as important as you, it means a lot. I mean a Doctor who’s been to space twice? I’m lucky enough to just be in your presence.”

“Oh my god, enough of that,” Beck groans. “We get it, I’m the greatest. But try not to think about it too much. The thought might die of loneliness up there in your itty bitty SysOp brain.”

Johanssen laughs. “Well, if your highness would like to blow off what seems like a really fun night of, uh, working alone for no pay, I’d be honored if you chose to join me for those welcome home drinks”

“I would love to,” Beck replies without hesitation. 

They’re three drinks in when Johanssen asks about his family. “So, Doctor Beck! Tell me. How do your parents do with the whole going into space thing? Because  _ my _ dad almost passed out when I told him.”

Beck stills, looking down into his glass for a minute. His buzz seems to disappear in that moment, the pounding in his ears and warmth in his chest becoming non-existent as he fumbles for an answer. “Uh, I don’t really-”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Johanssen says quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”   


“No, it’s fine,” Beck reassures her. “It’s okay. They, uh, both died a while back. So it’s just me and my twin sister. She flipped out the first time, cried on the phone when I told her and then again for the entire week before I left,” he recalls with a small smile. 

“Yeah, my dad was the same way. He just- sorry!” she stops abruptly, covering her mouth quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Relax,” Beck smiles, cutting her off. “It’s okay. You can talk about your parents without feeling guilty, I promise.”

“Sorry,” Johanssen repeats. 

“Stop apologizing! You did nothing wrong.”

“Tell me more about your sister,” Johanssen says, trying to digress. 

Beck quickly downs the rest of his vodka tonic, placing the glass down with a loud clink. “Well she went nuts when I told her the first time,” his eyes light up as he starts talking. “She begged me not to go, even offered to call NASA and make up some story. Once I got back, she thought it was the coolest thing ever, though. Started trying to set up me up with a different one of her friends every week, like I was her little astronaut trophy brother.”

“I’m sure you loved that,” Johanssen grins, playing with her straw. 

“Oh, yeah. Her friends are just… wow. I mean, better than space,” Beck jokes. “But no, she was pretty cool about it this time too, especially since it was only a month to do EVA training. The first time I went up, I was there for fourteen weeks.”

“She sounds cool,” Johanssen says.

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” Beck says fondly. “You guys are a lot alike, actually. I think you would like her.”

“Doctor Chris Beck, did you just admit that I’m great?” Johanssen teases. 

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he replies, looking up to meet her gaze. She smiles, shaking her head, and something clicks in Beck’s brain.

Maybe it’s the look in her eyes, maybe it’s because he just got back from space and he hadn’t realized how much he missed her, maybe it’s because he’s stupid when he drinks and doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions. Whatever it is, he leans across the booth and presses his lips to hers before he has a second to hesitate. 

She’s still for a second before leaning into the kiss. His hand finds her hair as she opens her mouth against his, deepening the kiss. She can’t help but smile at the look of shock on his face when she pulls back. 

“I- I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I shouldn’t have just-”

“Yes, you should have,” she answers, grabbing his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. 

“It was unprofessional and-”

“Beck,” she interrupts. 

“Another round?” he asks, pulling his hand back and pretending he didn’t see the light in her eyes dim. She nods and he quickly excuses himself to get the drinks. 

Alone at the table, she sighs. “Fuck it,” she mutters before getting up and following him to the bar.

“So I don’t know about you,” she says as he spins to face her. “But I’m an adult and I do what I want. I get it if you don’t want me, but-”

“God, of course I want you,” he interrupts, lowering his gaze to meet hers. “How could you think-”

She cuts him off with a kiss, her hands snaking around his back as she closes the distance between the two of them. She pretends she doesn’t feel her heartbeat pick up as he sighs against her, returning the kiss eagerly. 

He's so fucked. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guyssssss I have so many feelings about this book and these characters and I just really hope I can do it all justice. 
> 
> Sorry if this is riddled with errors- I'll go back in later tonight and read it over again but I just wanted to post it now before I run off to work. 
> 
> And you're all too good to me with all the lovely reviews you're leaving-- thank you!


	4. Tear In My Heart

Beck is fucked. He is incredibly, undoubtedly, unbelievably  _ fucked _ . Or at least that’s how he sees things when he wakes up half naked in Johanssen’s bed, with a raging headache and a fuzzy memory to boot. He glances down to where his arm is draped across her chest and almost chokes when he sees the deep red hickey on her collarbone. The early morning daylight peeking through the curtains casts shadows on her pale skin, her chest rising and falling steadily beside him. He shifts his arm to catch a glance at his watch, which he neglected to take off the night before. She stirs at the sudden movement, opening her eyes slowly. She rolls onto her other side and smiles up at him. “Hi,” she murmurs, snaking her hands around his middle and curling into him. 

God, he’s fucked.

“Hi,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Sleep okay?” he asks. 

She nods against his chest. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his mind a million miles away, moving a million miles a minute. 

“Are you freaking out?” she asks after a minute, her breath warm against his bare skin. 

“No,” he lies, rubbing circles on her back as his mind races. 

“Don’t lie,” she replies. “I can practically hear your brain overworking itself.”

“Are you?” he asks, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. “Freaking out, I mean.”

She’s quiet for a minute before looking up at him. “I mean yeah, a little bit.” 

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, even though the last thing he wants to do is ruin this awesome, incredible, perfect moment by talking things out. 

“Not really, no,” comes her reply. 

He sighs contently, “Good.”

They fall into a perfectly comfortable silence as he plays with her hair and she snuggles back into him. He doesn't miss how domestic it all seems, how familiar and intimate and _safe_ everything feels. Within in minutes, her breathing evens out. He’s not far behind, allowing the feel of the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath his arms to lull him to sleep.

Yep, he’s fucked. 

 

He wakes up the second time to the smell of coffee. The bed is empty beside him, and he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to think about how absolutely fucked he is. He gets up and throws on his shirt, rubbing a hand over his face before going to find Johanssen. He stops in the hallway when he sees her in the kitchen, back to him. She has the radio on and she’s singing along to Bohemian Rhapsody, doing all the different voices as she dances around the kitchen. It’s the most charming thing he’s ever seen. 

“Morning,” she says with a smile upon realizing his presence. She taps the counter, motioning for him to sit down. “Coffee?”

“Please,” he nods enthusiastically, graciously accepting the steaming mug she places in front of him as he sits. She fills another cup for herself before taking a seat beside him. “I never pictured you as a morning person,” he admits. 

“I’m not,” she shakes her head. “It’s like, half past noon, you weirdo.” 

Beck glances at the clock above the stove and sure enough, it’s 12:26. He takes a sip of coffee and almost spits it back out. “Oh my god, is this jet fuel?” he asks after miraculously managing to swallow it. 

She laughs, flipping him off as she turns to find the sugar. She passes it to him, still grinning. “It’s  _ real _ coffee. I’m not surprised you’re unfamiliar.”

“I don’t even want to know how much caffeine is in this,” he replies. “Wait. Actually, I think I do. I’m gonna bring it to the lab and test it.”

“You’re joking,” she answers.

He shakes his head. “I’m not.”

They fall into a comfortable silence until Beck has to go ahead and ruin it. “Listen,” he begins. “I’m sorry.” 

“No good can come from whatever you’re about to say,” she notes. He nods apologetically. 

_ This can’t happen again- we can’t happen again-  because I don’t trust myself to not fall in love with you and if I let that happen, one of us isn't going to Mars _  is what he wants to say. Instead, all that comes out is “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

She doesn’t want to agree, but knows she’s leaving soon for three months away, and deep down she knows she needs to stop herself before she falls too deep, although it's getting dangerously close to being a lost cause. Especially since she wants to get on the next Ares mission, and finally feels like she has a real shot. And she’s not about to let a guy- however cute and dorky and funny and kind of surprisingly great in bed he may be- get in the way of that. 

“I agree,” she says. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt to hear. Sure, he was relieved that it would be somewhat mutual, but part of him still wanted her to put up more of a fight. 

“I’m leaving in four weeks for pre-mission training and then I leave. It’ll be three months before I’m back here,” she adds.

He pretends that’s what he meant, and she pretends that’s the only issue. “So, we’re agreed,” he says. “This was, uh, a one-time deal?”

“Yep,” she replies, taking another sip of her coffee. “One and done.”

They sleep together twenty four more times before she leaves for training. 

\--

The night before she leaves, neither of them can sleep. They’re lying in his bed, his arms wrapped around her, her head resting on his shoulder in the way they've become so accustomed to in the past four weeks. After nearly an hour of pretending to sleep, she looks up at him. 

“Beck,” she whispers. 

“Johanssen,” he replies.

“Are you awake?” she asks. 

“No,” he replies. He can feel her smile. He sighs, pulling her closer. 

“Are we gonna talk about this?” she asks. 

“I don’t want to,” he all but pouts. 

“Neither do I. But I can’t leave until… until I know we’re okay.” Her voice is quiet and uncharacteristically apprehensive.

“The truth?” he asks. 

She nods. “Please.”

“I’m trying to get on the next Ares mission, and I know it’s your dream, too. And if that’s still the case, then we can’t… I mean, It’s still two years away, and a lot could change by then, but I know the rules and stuff and I’ve looked into everything they look at before they select the flight crews and- and I’m rambling. I’m sorry,” he says, running a fingers up and down her spine absentmindedly. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that they would never let two astronauts up together who were together, or who had been together, or who had any significant history together. But I think you know this.”

“I know,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”

“I knew this from the beginning. The first thing they told me when they hired me was to not get involved with anyone from NASA. I should have listened, but I’ve never been good at following all the rules,” she says. 

He laughs. “One of the many reasons-” He stops abruptly, before he can finish his sentence and completely shatter any chance they had at returning to normalcy after this.  _ One of the many reasons I’m falling in love with you.  _ “One of the many reasons I’m sure they hired you,” he covers with.

“I guess I’m just sorry that this is where this ends,” she says. 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Me, too.”

\--

When she’s gone, he misses her more than he thought possible. And he doesn’t just miss her sharp intake of breath when he would back her against a wall, or the way she would murmur “Chris,” when his lips would find her neck. He doesn’t even spend too much time missing the way she walked around in his shirts every morning and how she always managed to convince him to stay in bed for “Just five more minutes, I promise” which turned into ten, then twenty, then an hour. 

Instead, he misses the way she would drop by the lab unannounced and bring him snacks and tell him stories about the weird guy at the workstation across from hers. He misses getting his ass kicked in Mario Kart, and wondering how the hell she managed to beat her high score on Rainbow Road that one time she was five drinks in and could barely stand up straight. He misses the way she would inundate him with emails about what she was craving for lunch or how much caffeine she had so far, and how she always got a kick out of how he changed his signature to something new each time he replied. 

She wasn’t a girl he screwed for a couple weeks, or the girl he almost fell for. Somehow, along the way, she became his best friend.

  
  
  



	5. Wherever You Will Go

**from:** [ **e.johanssen@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**to:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**subj: <no subject>**

 

**hi from space! bye from space!**

 

**Elizabeth L. Johanssen**

**Software Development/SysOp/REAL LIFE ASTRONAUT**

**Email:** **e.johanssen@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 4471**

 

**\---**

**from:** **c.beck@nasa.gov**

 **to:** **e.johanssen@nasa.gov**

**subj: RE: <no subject>**

**Hi from Earth.**

 

**You’ll be happy to know I’m eagerly awaiting your return so I can finally own you on Rainbow Road- I’ve been practicing. Watch your back, Johanssen.**

 

**Bye from Earth.**

**Dr. Christopher O. Beck**

**Human Performance Studies/ISS 113 /Mario Kart World Champion**

**Email:** **c.beck@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 1352**

\----

 **from:** [ **e.johanssen@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**to:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**subj: RE: <no subject>**

 

 **doctor christopher beck,** **_surely_ ** **you know better than to waste your time believing you can beat me. i’d bet every penny to my name that even three months out of practice, i can still wipe the floor with you.**

**but keep telling yourself whatever you need to sleep at night!**

 

**Elizabeth L. Johanssen**

**Software Development/SysOp/gonna kick ur ass beck**

**Email:** **e.johanssen@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 4471**

  
\----

The night she gets back, Beck gets an hour and half of sleep, waking up at two in the morning and driving into NASA to watch the live feed of the Soyuz descent.

The second it’s firmly planted on the ground and he sees her disembark, he lets out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

\----

 **from:** **c.beck@nasa.gov**

 **to:** **e.johanssen@nasa.gov**

**subj: <no subject>**

 

**Only 6 days until you're really back and thus surrender your title. Don’t know about you, but I can’t wait.**

 

**Dr. Christopher O. Beck**

**Human Performance Studies/ISS 113/Happy you’re back**

**Email:** **c.beck@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 1352**

**\----**

**from:** [ **e.johanssen@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov)

**to:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**subj: RE: <no subject>**

 

**whatever you need to tell yourself!! but i think we both know the truth.**

**see you next week.**

 

**Elizabeth L. Johanssen**

**Software Development/SysOp/happy i’m back too**

**Email:** **e.johanssen@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 202.555.6272 x 4471**

\----

“How the hell did you do that” Beck asks incredulously, finally calling it quits after losing for the fourth time in a row.

“You should just stop trying,” Johanssen smirks, setting down the controller and pulling her knees up to her chin. “Actually, don’t. I kind of like the ego boost.”

“Fuck off,” he says, dropping down onto the couch next to her. “You ever gonna tell me about your mission?”

Johanssen shrugs. “Pretty uneventful, actually,” she deadpans.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be,” Beck raises an eyebrow.

“Nah,” she says. “I’ll tell you about it. Cause I’m not a douche and all.”

“Shut up,” he replies playfully.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to follow?” she asks. “I’ll try not to use too many big words for your little doctor brain.”

“Making up for lost time, are we, Johanssen?”

“I have several months of ball busting to make up for and a short amount of time to do it.”

“You have all the time in the world,” Beck argues.

She shakes her head. “Actually, no. They asked me to go up again at the end of the year. Only for a month, though.”

“Holy shit, that’s huge!” Beck grins. “You’re going, right?!”

“Yeah, I think so,” she says with a small smile. “I have until Monday to tell them officially. They’re trying to send three females up a month with no personal items and no nonessential ground communication as a psych test. Normally I would have said no fucking way, but at this point I’d do almost anything that could help me get on an Ares mission.”

“A month alone with two other girls and no nerdy video games? Does NASA understand the very real chances that you’ll commit murder aboard the ISS?”

She scrunches up her nose. “Don’t remind me.”

“But seriously, that’s huge. I’m happy for you,” Beck says. And he really means it.

“Thanks,” Johanssen says with a smile, nudging his thigh with her foot after a minute of comfortable silence. “You ready to get your ass beat again? Or do you want to switch to Super Smash?”

\---

Days come and go, and they become closer than ever. With Johanssen’s help (read: encouragement and exceptional wingwoman skills), Beck goes on a handful of dates with a blond paralegal named Stacey. And with Beck’s help (read: incessant nagging and stacks of horrifying literature), Johanssen cuts back on her caffeine intake, going from seven cups a day to only five.

Of course, she sneaks Red Bulls here and there, and Stacey the blond paralegal is transferred to Cleveland for work after a couple of months. So really, by the time Ares interviews come around, not much has changed.

There’s only a month before Johanssen’s month-long ISS expedition, and she wants to spend her days coding, playing video games, and hanging out on Beck’s couch. Instead, she spends them sitting for psych interviews, pre-flight physicals, and pre-interviews for the next Ares mission.

Exactly four weeks before she’s scheduled to leave, she gets a call that they’d like her to come in for an official interview.

“Guess where I just came from,” she says to Beck two days later, strolling into the lab with her tablet clutched against her chest.

“Mars,” he replies, not looking up from his microscope.

“Close!” she exclaims. “An Ares interview.”

“Shut up!” he says, nearly dropping the pipette he’s holding. “I had mine this morning. I didn’t want to tell you in case you didn’t hear from them yet, but holy shit-”

“Eighteen months from now, we could be on our way to Mars,” she grins.

“Celebratory Super Smash Bros tonight?” he asks.

“If you insist,” she nods. “I mean, my ego’s doing pretty well now, but it can always use a boost.”

“Fuck off,” he replies, shaking his head fondly before looking down at his microscope again. “I’ll get you one of these days.”

“Unlikely,” she says, taking a seat on one of the empty countertops and turning on her tablet.

“You won’t even see it coming,” he replies.

“Mmm, I bet,” she says, focusing on her work as she crosses her legs and gets comfortable. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby chapter!! apologies for the brevity, but i promise the next chapter is a good length. and i'm posting it tomorrow (woohoo!!)
> 
> also, quick heads up: the aforementioned next chapter has a somewhat detailed account of a situation involving blood and other medical-ness. if that's something you don't want to read, that's fine! feel free to skip it and go right to chapter 7 when it's posted- you can send me a pm or leave a comment and i'll be more than happy to fill you in :)


	6. Talk Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick reminder!! if you're not cool with medical stuff you can skip this chapter or just stop reading after the --- break in the page. feel free to comment or pm me if you want a g-rated fill-in before the next chapter :)

“Can I be honest?” Johanssen asks later that night, dropping down onto the couch and curling into a ball.

“No, lie to my face,” Beck replies.

“Fuck off,” she says. “But really.”

“Yeah, of course you can,” he nods, sitting down beside her. “What’s up?”

“Actually, you know, never mind,” she shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”

“No way!” Beck shakes his head. “Unfair. You have to tell me! You can’t just lead me on like that! It’s like blue balls in my brain.”

“I don’t want to be mean!” she replies. “It’s not very becoming.”

“Since when have you ever given a shit about what’s _becoming_?” he teases.

“Fine,” she agrees. “But you asked for it.”

“Fine,” he nods.

“I really fucking hate that girl you went out with on Friday,” she says after a long pause.  

“Amelia?” he asks. “From the bar?”

Johanssen nods quickly, holding her breath in nervous anticipation, afraid of how he might take it. Beck doesn’t say anything, just looks at her for a minute before laughing out loud.

“Oh thank god,” he says through his laughter. “I thought I was the only one.”

“Beck!” she hisses. “If you hated her why did you go out with her?!”

“I don’t know!” he admits. “You’ve been doing such a good job as my wingman, I guess I thought I owed it to you to give it a shot and go one at least one date.”

“Beck, no!” she laughs. “You shouldn’t have subjected yourself to her for my sake! I don’t give a fuck who you see.”

“She was so mean!” he says. “She made me dinner and the entire time she trashed her ex and her friends and even the girl who lived across the hall from her. And her fucking cat scratched me so deep that I thought I was gonna need a stitch or two.”

“Wanna hear a secret?” Johanssen asks.

“Of course I do. Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

“Noted,” she grins. “Well that first night we saw her in the bar, before you even talked to her, she cornered me in the bathroom and asked if we were together. When I told her no, she told me she was going for you and if I tried to cockblock, she would ruin me.”

“Ruin you?!”

“Ruin me! I swear. Verbatim.”

“My god,” Beck says with a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I told her there was nothing between us like, at least three times that night. And then again at her place the following week.”

“Maybe it’s fate,” Johanssen says, half joking, half not.

“Maybe,” Beck muses playfully, pushing the thought from his mind. He pulls a quarter out of his pocket. “Okay, you know the drill. Call it.”

“Tails,” she declares as the coin goes airborne.

“Heads,” he announces as it lands in his palm, showing it to her. “I’m player one. Suck it, Johanssen.”

She laughs, throwing her head back. “Yeah, you wish.”

 

\---

 

Sure enough, he loses for the umpteenth time. He’s used to it at this point.

He heads home after his third consecutive defeat, falling asleep almost instantly, despite the thoughts of a Mars mission taking over his mind. Only a couple hours after falling asleep, he wakes up to his phone ringing. The harsh light of his phone cuts through the darkness of his room as he squints, scrambling for it.

“Chris Beck,” he says, voice deep with sleep.

“Hey, uh, it’s me,” Johanssen rushes. “I know it’s late and I’m sorry but I don’t know what to do. I-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Slow down,” the evenness in Beck’s voice betrays his heart rate, which has spiked as the underlying panic in her voice registers with him. “Are you okay?”

“I fucked up so bad,” Johanssen replies, and Beck realizes she’s crying. “I don’t know what to do but I fucked up, Chris. I fucked up so bad.”

He throws his covers to the side and all but jumps out of bed, throwing a shirt on and ignoring the tugging feeling in his chest when she uses his first name. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have called but I just- I just didn’t know what to do. I can’t call 911 and I just didn’t know what else to do,” she answers, choking on a sob.

“911?!” he asks hurriedly. “If you even think you might need them, please call them."

"No," she protests. "I can't call them."

"Listen to me. I need to know if you’re okay,” Beck says, grabbing his keys.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, voice watery with tears as she tries to speak through her erratic breathing. “I just really need you right now. I’m sorry, Chris.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says as he gets to his car, trying his hardest to stay calm. “Just tell me what happened.”

“And stop apologizing,” he adds, blowing through the stop sign at the end of his block. “And take a couple of deep breaths before you do anything else. Can you focus on your breathing until I get there?”

“I don’t know what to do,” she says through tears. “Everything happened so fast. I don’t-”

“What happened?” he asks again, saying a silent prayer of thanks that there were no cops around to see him run that red light. “Are you hurt?”

“Just please hurry,” she cries. “And don’t call 911.”

“See, you keep saying that, which really makes me think they should be called,” he says.

“I don’t need 911, I just need you to get here,” she replies.

“Beth, are you okay?” he asks again. She sniffles into the phone. “Beth,” he insists.

There’s a long pause before she admits with a shaky voice, “I- I don’t think so. There’s a lot of blood.”

He tries to focus, not let himself panic. He focuses on the feel of the accelerator at work beneath his foot as he presses the pedal down even further. He forces himself to take a deep breath, then another. “I’m almost there. Stay on the phone with me, okay?”

“Hurry,” she says. Thankfully, he notices her breathing has evened out some.

“I am, I promise. If you were in the car right now you’d be impressed,” he replies with a small smile. “I’m going 41 in a 25.”

Normally Johanssen would laugh, accompanied by some jab about how her dead grandmother could drive faster than Beck does. Now, all she does is offer a shaky “Okay.”

The small smile drops from Beck’s face as he hears the panic still in her voice. “I’m on your street. Count to 100.”

He makes his own parking space at the end of the block, directly in front of a “no parking” sign, but he’s too worried about Johanssen to give a shit, frankly. The second he gets through the door, he beelines for the stairs, taking them two at a time all the way up to her apartment on the fourth floor. Her door is unlocked, and he wastes no time in swinging it open hard enough that it slams shut on its own behind him.

“Beth!” he shouts as he sees her curled up on the floor behind the kitchen counter. He rushes over to her, squatting down so he’s at her level. Her makeup has run down her face, which is stained with tears and dried blood. He takes her face in his hands, eyes raking over it frantically. “Who’s blood is this, Beth?”

He’s met with silence. “Is this your blood?” he asks again hurriedly. “Beth, is this your blood?”

“I don’t know,” she answers through gritted teeth. “Probably.” She straightens her legs, revealing a large gash on her stomach peeking out from a huge rip in her shirt.

“Oh my god,” Beck says under his breath. “I need to call an ambulance.”

“No!” she protests. “You can’t. Just… just look first.”

“I really think-”

“Please,” she begs.

He sighs. “Okay, you need to lay down. Try not to move.” He slips an arm under her back and lowers her gently to the floor before peeling off his jacket and balling it up under her head.

“No, you can’t leave!” she cries as he jumps up to turn a better light on and find something to use to hold pressure.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures her, grabbing a kitchen towel and a bottle of hand sanitizer. “Just getting a towel. Count to three and I’ll be back by your side.”

She counts out loud, voice shaky. Sure enough, by the time she gets to three he’s kneeling beside her again, squeezing out a liberal amount of hand sanitizer onto his hands. “What the hell- here, hold this against your stomach for me- what the hell happened?”

“I went out for a run,” she says quietly, pressing the towel to her stomach as instructed. “I was listening to music and just kind of out of it and I guess I forgot to lock my door.”

“Did someone follow you home?” Beck asks, moving her shirt out of the way.

“No. No, they were here when I got home. Two of them, trying to rob the place.”

“They did this to you?” Beck asks. “With what? A knife?”

“They were in the bedroom when they heard me come in. They, uh, ran past me when they were leaving, and the second one pushed me down. I fell into the corner of the coffee table,” she says. He glances over to the all-glass coffee table and sees a corner broken off, the piece lying on the floor in several shards and stained with blood. The Legend of Zelda box is still in the middle of the table, the controllers beside it.

“Did you take the glass out?” Beck asks, eyes on his watch as he takes her pulse.

“No,” she replies, attempting a weak smile. “I know better than that. I’m super smart, remember? It broke off and fell out when I stood up.”

“Okay,” Beck nods, examining the cut. It’s about three inches long and it’s deep- really deep. “Tweezers?” he asks.

“Bathroom cabinet,” she replies, closing her eyes.

“Eyes open!” he instructs, jumping up and hurrying into the bathroom. “Just be still for a minute. This might hurt,” he says, returning to her side and sanitizing the tweezers.

“Okay. I trust you,” she whispers with a nod. Beck ignores the way it feels like his heart is trying to beat right out of his chest. He busies himself with peeling back the towel and re-folding it to reveal a dry side. He grabs the clean tweezers in his right hand as her hand finds his left.

She whines, but he’s finished pulling the remaining glass out in a couple of seconds. He squeezes her hand reassuringly. “You’re doing great. Just hold still for a minute, okay?”

She obliges, and he starts applying pressure again. “So,” he says after a moment. “Good news is that the glass missed any major arteries and the bleeding is almost stopped. But you need a hospital.”

“No!” she protests. “No, Chris. Please don’t. If… if NASA finds out, they’ll kick me off the expedition. Please- I can’t let them find out.”

Beck sighs, brushing the hair out of her face. He lets his hand linger, cupping her paling face gently. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“No,” she shakes her head, tears returning to her eyes. “No, there has to be something you can do. You can stitch me up! You did it before-”

“That was different,” he insists, pulling out his phone. “You sliced your finger cutting carrots and only needed two stitches. And we were at my place where I have a suture kit.”

“You can… you can stitch me up here. I, uh, I have a sewing kit. Same cabinet as the tweezers, I think.”

“You’re already going into shock,” he says, jumping up to grab a blanket. “You’re not thinking straight. I’m not stitching you up with a sewing kit and then letting you hide it from NASA.”

“Why not?” she asks, gaze going to the ceiling as he covers her with the blanket. “I’m tough. I can… I can handle it.”

“Because you could die. Or get an infection. Or lose your job. Or all of the above,” he says. “And I care about you way too much to let that happen. But I think you know that. Not to mention that you’ve lost a lot of blood. And I can’t do anything for you about that, even if I did have a real suture kit with me.”

She nods. “I know.”

He squeezes her hand reassuringly before dialing 911. “Hang in there, okay?” he says after hanging up. “Just another couple of minutes.”

“Chris,” she says softly, voice barely above a whisper.

It kills him, seeing her like this. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to find the piece of shit responsible for this and beat him senseless. He knows she’s right- her expedition is only a few weeks away and there’s no way that NASA would let her go up that soon after an injury as bad as this one is. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“You’re in shock,” he says, forcing himself to ignore the way his heart seems to hang lower in his chest with her words.

“No, I’m in love with you.”

“Beth,” he says quietly. He wants to tell her that she can’t play with his heart like this. That she can’t open a door only to let it swing closed. That she can think it, but she can’t say it, because if she says it he might not be able to stop himself from saying it back.

But she’s in shock and they’re waiting for the paramedics and his hands are covered in her blood. So he doesn’t tell her anything. Instead, he chews on his lip nervously, listening to the sirens getting louder as they approach.

 

At her insistence, he rides in the back of the ambulance with her. He agrees and pretends he wasn’t going to insist on riding along anyway.

He holds her hand the entire way to the hospital, and only threatens to punch the idiot paramedic once. “Seriously, man? How fucking hard is it to find a vein?” he demands.

“Beck,” Johanssen warns, voice tired. “Play nice.”

The paramedic raises an eyebrow and moves to try for a fourth time, which Beck does _not_ appreciate.

“Yale Med, cum laude. Give it to me,” he practically hisses, shoving the moron out of the way and slipping the IV in on his first try.

“Pompous fuck,” Johanssen whispers before her eyes close.

 


	7. Through The Dark

The first few minutes in the hospital are a blur of people yelling directions, running around, and a particularly pushy intern trying to force Beck to wait in the hallway. He’s not sure how much time passes from the moment he slides down the wall outside her room to the moment the doctors give him the okay to see her, but it somehow feels like hours and seconds at the same time. A glance at his watch reveals it’s been a little over two hours. 

“I’ll take that,” he says as the intern walks past, grabbing her chart from his hands. “Thanks, pal.”

The intern gives him a dirty look, which Beck gladly returns before closing the door between them. He reads over the chart twice before placing it at the foot of the bed, surprisingly satisfied with the doctors’ work. “Hi,” he says quietly, taking the seat next to the bed. Her eyes remain closed, her chest rising and falling evenly.

“I know you’re asleep,” he starts, looking down before reaching for her hand. “But, uh, I’m gonna sit here until you wake up.” 

He’s surprised when she squeezes his hand faintly. “Hi,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” he replies with a smile, sliding the chair closer to her bed. “How you feeling, champ?”

“Fabulous,” she says. 

“You remember what happened?” 

“Everything up until I asked you to stitch me up with a sewing kit,” she smiles weakly. “I can’t remember anything after that, but I’m gonna use context clues here and guess you said no,” she adds, gesturing to the hospital room. 

_ So you don’t remember declaring your love for me repeatedly?  _ he wants to reply. Instead, he pushes the feelings of impending dejection down and nods. “That’s correct. Although I could still do a cleaner suture than the imbeciles here,” he says. 

She ignores the pain in her abdomen as she laughs, peeking at the stitches, only to see they’re covered by a bandage. “You’re ruthless.”

He shrugs. “Just calling it as I see it.” 

She shakes her head fondly before going silent. She looks down at the bandage again, running her fingers over it gently before closing her eyes and sighing softly. 

“You okay?” he asks after a minute. 

She looks up at him, and the answer is written all over her face. “No.”

He nods slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” she says honestly. “I should, uh, probably call NASA though.”

He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say other than “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t,” she says, gentle yet firm at the same time. “Don’t pity me, Beck. It’s bad enough I have to tell NASA I need to back out of my expedition because some prick pushed me into my stupid glass coffee table and I almost bled out on my kitchen floor. But I don’t need your pity on top of that. Please.”

He nods, and they slip into silence. “Hey,” he says after a minute, trying to pull her back from wherever her mind has wandered off to. 

“What, are you gonna tell me that at least I won’t be stuck with two other girls and no entertainment for a month?” she asks.

He laughs. “Actually, yes. That’s exactly what I was going to say. And also that this means I won’t have any extra time to polish my gaming skills.”

“I could leave for a year and you still wouldn’t be able to beat me,” she replies without missing a beat. 

“I’d take those odds.”

“Oh, Beck. Remind me to keep you as far away from Las Vegas as possible.”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you, superstar.”

“No, seriously. The, uh, the whole time I was out in that hallway I just kept thinking about all the what-ifs, you know? What if I didn’t hear my phone? What if my car broke down and I couldn’t get to you in time? What if I was too late?”

“Chris,” she tries to stop him. 

“And I’ve been beating myself up this whole time. What if I had crashed on the couch at your place? What if I stayed up long enough to talk you out of going for a run? What if I got to you sooner? I’m just... I’m killing myself over not being able to do more for you. And it’s like, each time I even think about things being worse and something seriously happening to you, I feel sick. It just feels like it’s all my fault.” 

“Chris,” she tries again. “Listen to me. This is not on you, okay?” 

He just stares at her, shaking his head. “No, Beth-”

“Hey,” she says, cutting him off. “I’m serious. This isn’t your fault, understand? I want to be perfectly clear about that. The last thing I want is you thinking any part of this is on you, okay?”

“But what if-”

“Chris, stop. You’re my best friend,” she says suddenly. It’s the first time either of them have ever acknowledged the tight bond they’ve developed, and as comforting and meaningful as it is, it doesn’t make Beck want to cry any less. “Okay? And you literally saved my life tonight, and as sad and disappointed as I am now, knowing that you blame yourself for my dumb mistake will just make things worse. Because that’s what it comes down to– my own stupid mistake. If I had just locked my fucking door, this wouldn’t have happened.”

He hears her voice start to waver, and his chest tightens. “Beth-”

“If I had just taken two seconds to remember to lock the door, things would be different. But I didn’t, and that’s on me. Shit went wrong because of me, not you. And the last thing I want is you beating yourself up over my fuck-up.”

There are tears shining in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She blinks them back furiously, but one manages to escape. “Good,” she says, “Now I’m crying and my stomach hurts and I still have to call NASA and tell them about what a massive fuck-up I am.”

“Just take a deep breath,” Beck says, brushing her hair out of her face. It’s the first time he’s ever seen her cry, except for the time they were at Wal Mart making a late-night snack run and he tried to run and jump onto the cart to ride it like a kid, except he lost his momentum too quickly and ate shit in the middle of the aisle. But those tears were a result of laughing so hard she was doubled over and clutching her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. 

These sad, defeated tears are different– so, so different. 

“I can see it now,” she laughs bitterly. “All the NASA higher-ups sitting around in a conference room, talking about how there’s no way in hell they can let a girl go to Mars who can’t even lock a fucking door.” 

“You know that’s not going to happen,” he replies.

“You never know,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “Maybe this is a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be an astronaut. I mean, I got to go to space once, and it was incredible. It’s more than most people ever get, and I still get to write code and design software and study SysOp which I love.”

“No,” Beck protests. “No way. You’re going back to space, even if it’s not going to be as soon as planned. Sure, you like your job on land, but you still need to go back up. If not for your own benefit, then because I need all the time away from you that I can get. It’s all about that Mario Kart practice, you know.”

She smiles. “Chris, you’re 34 years old. If you haven’t perfected your Mario Kart skills by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

“Wow, I’m really starting to rethink not letting you bleed out,” he jokes.

“Thanks,” she says. “I mean it. For everything. For earlier tonight, and for making me feel better now, and for being my friend.”

“Don’t go getting all emotional on me, Johanssen,” he warns playfully. “If I had known you were such a sap, I would have steered clear of you in the first place.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she says, and for the first time all night, things finally start to feel somewhat normal again. 

\---

Watching the mission launch several weeks later is difficult enough for Beck that he has no trouble imagining how Johanssen is feeling as she stands beside him, arms crossed across her chest. Her tiny frame is swallowed up by one of her black NASA hoodies, and her hair is pulled back away from her face, her eyebrows narrowed and lips slightly pursed, a look Beck has come to adore. In his head, he refers to it as the don’t-fuck-with-me look, and he soon realizes that there’s nothing better to represent Johanssen than the look he’s become so fond of. 

Once the clapping is over and everyone in the control room gets back to work, she turns to Beck with a hint of a scowl on her face. “I’m clocking out and getting drunk. You coming?”

"You're not supposed to be drinking until you're completely pain free, and you know it," Beck replies.

"Fine," she concedes. "You're getting drunk enough for the both of us, _Doctor_."

"We can argue about that on the way out," he says.

They’re nearly out the door when someone calls “Dr. Beck!” They both turn and see Mitch Henderson, the flight director for the next Ares mission chasing after them. 

“Sir?” Beck replies. Johanssen stands up a little straighter beside him. 

“Wondering if you’ve seen your email in the last few minutes,” Mitch begins. 

“Uh, no, I haven’t. Not since about four.” 

“Well, there’s a message in there from my secretary. You still want to go to Mars?”

“Y-yes. Yes, absolutely,” he stammers. 

“Good, glad to hear it,” Mitch replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll find an email in your inbox with information regarding your next interview. This is the last step before physicals and testing, which I’m sure you know is the last thing before official selection.”

“Wait, seriously?” Beck asks. “Uh, I mean, thank you. For the opportunity, I mean. And of course, for your time and dedication to the Administration. And for taking the time to speak to me now, too. Just… just thank you.”

Mitch laughs, and out of the corner of his eye, Beck can see Johanssen is fighting to keep the amused grin off her face. “You too, Ms. Johanssen. Sorry to hear about your injury, but glad to see you’re doing well. You two keep an eye out for that email, alright?”

She nods eagerly. “Yes, sir. Thank you. I look forward to speaking with you again.”

Mitch nods, shaking each of their hands before rushing off somewhere. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Beck shoves Johanssen’s shoulder excitedly. “Look at us!” 

“Uh, uh, thank you, Mr. Mitch. For, uh, uh, letting me do cool things. And uh, for doing your job and stuff,” Johanssen says mockingly. 

“Yeah, I really don’t know why I keep you around,” Beck says. 

“Shut up,” she replies. “You love me.”

Beck fights the blush creeping up his neck.  _ Yep, _ he thinks.  _ I sure do.  _

 


	8. Crash and Burn

**\---**

**from:** [ **m.henderson@nasa.gov** ](mailto:m.henderson@nasa.gov)

**to:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov) **;** [ **p.flood@nasa.gov** ](mailto:p.flood@nasa.gov) **;** [ **d.jackson@nasa.gov** ](mailto:d.jackson@nasa.gov) **;** [ **l.james@esa.int** ](mailto:l.james@esa.int) **;** [ **e.johanssen@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov) **;** [ **e.king@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.king@nasa.gov) **;** [ **m.lewis@nasa.gov** ](mailto:m.lewis@nasa.gov) **;** [ **r.martinez@nasa.gov** ](mailto:r.martinez@nasa.gov) **;** [ **a.vogel@esa.int** ](mailto:a.vogel@esa.int) **;** [ **c.walsh@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.walsh@nasa.gov) **;** [ **m.watney@nasa.gov** ](mailto:m.watney@nasa.gov)

**subj: ARES III update**

 

**Hello, all:**

**I am pleased to share that all of you have passed the final interview stage for your respective positions on the ARES III mission launching November 6, 2035. This means you all will be moving onto the next stage of the selection process, which will begin immediately. I will be in touch in the following days to provide you with necessary details. As you may or may not have heard by now, the crew commander will be announced on May 8th, with the remainder of the crew announced no later than June 1st.**

**Looking forward to speaking with you all in the days and weeks to come.**

**Best,**

**Mitch**

 

**Mitch C. Henderson**

**ARES Flight Director**

**Email:** **m.henderson@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 281.555.6272 x 4291**

\---

“Did you see Mitch’s email?” Beck asked, sitting on Johanssen’s desk. Her eyes are glued to the tiny screen of her tablet, despite the three huge monitors sitting in front of her.

“Yep,” she nods before motioning for him to get down. “Get off, I feel like you’re gonna fuck something up.”

“Yes, mom,” Beck makes a show of pouting.

“What happened to us not talking about Ares?” she asks, finally looking up from her tablet to meet his eyes.

“I’m excited, that’s what happened,” Beck grins. “Did you see how short the list of names was? I really think we have a shot.”

“Shh!” she hisses. “No more talking about it! You’re practically a shoo-in, and I don’t want you to jinx my already-slim chance. Because then, I’m gonna die of loneliness when you go to Mars, and I’ll be resigned to spending my days haunting you.”

“Fine,” Beck places his hands up in mock-surrender. “But when you get picked, I get to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Beck!” she warns.

\---

The next round of the selection process is pretty easy. They each have a physical, a psych test, a drug test, another round of interviews, and then a 24-hour simulation in which they have to demonstrate everything they would be required to do aboard as well as respond to surprise simulated emergencies. All in all, it takes a little over a week. Another week passes with no updates, until another email from Mitch breaks the silence.

 **from:** [ **m.henderson@nasa.gov** ](mailto:m.henderson@nasa.gov)

**to:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov) **;** [ **p.flood@nasa.gov** ](mailto:p.flood@nasa.gov) **;** [ **d.jackson@nasa.gov** ](mailto:d.jackson@nasa.gov) **;** [ **l.james@esa.int** ](mailto:l.james@esa.int) **;** [ **e.johanssen@nasa.gov** ](mailto:e.johanssen@nasa.gov) **;** [ **m.lewis@nasa.gov** ](mailto:m.lewis@nasa.gov) **;** [ **r.martinez@nasa.gov** ](mailto:r.martinez@nasa.gov) **;** [ **a.vogel@esa.int** ](mailto:a.vogel@esa.int) **;** [ **c.walsh@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.walsh@nasa.gov) **;** [ **m.watney@nasa.gov** ](mailto:m.watney@nasa.gov)

**subj: Another ARES III update**

 

**Hello again:**

**First of all, I would like to thank all of you for your dedication to the program. You have all proven to be highly motivated and exceptionally qualified- it has truly made our decision a fairly simple one.**

**That said, please join me in congratulating Commander Melissa Lewis, who will be leading the ARES III team. Her background with the US Navy and JPL as well as countless hours of research and work at NASA will prove to be an excellent asset to the mission. We have no doubt she will excel as the Commander of this mission. The official announcement will be made tomorrow at the start of the business day.**

**The remainder of the spots will be filled in the coming weeks pending another round of interviews and/or tests where deemed necessary. As always, I will be in touch.**

 

**Mitch C. Henderson**

**ARES Flight Director**

**Email:** **m.henderson@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 281.555.6272 x 4291**

**\---**

As soon as he finishes reading Mitch’s email, he pushes his chair back from the lab table, careful not to disturb the samples he was looking at. He stands up, ready to run upstairs and see what Johanssen thinks, but he stops himself. She’s been pretty serious about not talking to him about anything Ares-related these last couple of weeks as things have gotten a little more serious. And as much as he doesn’t want to feign indifference, he will. Not because he wants to, but because she wants him to, and he has to respect that.

Another week passes, and then Beck is cornered in the break room by Mitch’s secretary. Miranda Alvarez might be the most beautiful woman at NASA, with perfectly blue eyes, long black hair and a wicked crush on Beck. He’s known this for a few months, but only after Johanssen pointed it out one day after he mistook her harcore flirting attempts for genuine interest in the experiment he was running on preventing radiation poisoning in mice. “You dumbass,” Johanssen had said after Miranda had sauntered away. “She clearly wants to fuck you, and you invite her to come meet your lab mice? No wonder you’re still single.”

This time, she walks up to him as he’s refilling his water bottle. “Doctor,” she says sweetly. “I hear you’re on the short list. Congratulations.”

He turns to face her, returning her smile. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. Hoping it all works out.”

“Between you and me, they selected the pilot last night. I forwarded on the request for a press release this morning,” she offers, taking her time in leaning over him to grab a cup from the water cooler.

“Really?”

“Yup,” she answers. “Martinez. And Watney is being notified today that he’s been selected for the mechanical engineer and botany position, too. Great guys, if you want my opinion. Not as great as you, of course.”

“Oh, please. You’re gonna make me blush,” he jokes. She raises her eyebrows suggestively before grabbing her things off the counter.

“As soon as I know more, we’ll have to grab a drink so I can fill you in,” she says.

Beck raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think Mitch would like that very much.”

“I don’t think Mitch would like a lot of things I do very much,” she smirks. “Now don’t go telling my secrets, Dr. Beck,” she winks before turning and walking out.

The second she’s gone, Beck pulls out his phone and fires off a text.

**I know we’re not supposed to talk about Ares which is why I’m not asking what you can find out about the commander and I’m definitely not telling you that Mitch’s secretary told me they also chose the pilot last night.**

The notification pops up on her tablet, and she tears her eyes away from her work long enough to read his text. She chews on her lip, trying to decide if she wants to share her findings. Of course, she did some serious cyberstalking of everyone on Mitch’s initial email list, and she now knows more than she ever wanted to about all of them. As much as she doesn’t want to talk about Ares, it _is_ Beck who’s asking. And his chances of getting selected are strong– really strong. So odds are he’ll be working with this woman for a long time.

**_did she also tell you that she wants you inside her?? bring me a coffee and i’ll tell you what i know._ **

**And responses like that are exactly why I didn’t use NASA email for this conversation.**

**_you could just sleep with her, you know._ **

**No way. Not my type.**

**_you’re 34 and single with no dates in sight. i don’t think you’re allowed to have a type anymore._ **

**Be nice, or you’re getting decaf.**

“So, Miranda?” Johanssen asks when she hears him come up behind her, eyes glued to the code running across the three computer monitors in front of her.

Beck places the coffee down beside her. “Oh, so now you want to talk Ares?” he asks playfully.

She turns to face him, taking a sip of coffee. “Do you want to know about Lewis or not?”

He grins. “Martinez is gonna be the pilot. And Watney is gonna be the mechanical engineer and botanist once they notify him. The rest of the crew is getting picked still, I guess.”

“And how’s your ego doing?” she asks.

“Still inflated, don’t worry. Especially since I know the other guy who they’re looking into. We have the same amount of experience, but I have a higher MCAT score and I was a higher rank in the Air Force. Plus, they’d have to train him in the EVA specialty. I already have a couple space walks under my belt and the mandatory EVA training hours completed.”

Johanssen raises her eyebrows. “Okay, so you’re clearly not worried.”

He shrugs. “I mean, you never know. I want to hear about these guys, though.”

“Lewis is incredible,” she says, leaning back in her chair and trying to remember what she found out about each of them. “Uh, she’s Navy, highly decorated. She has two PhDs, and she spent three years at JPL before coming to NASA. She’s been here for four years and has logged almost two hundred days in space. I couldn’t find a bad thing about her anywhere. Anyone would be lucky to be on a mission with her, honestly.”

Beck nods. “You think you’d get along?”

Johanssen looks up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Beck,” she warns. “I told you-”

“So the others?” he digresses.

“Good guys, from what I can tell. They’ve both been here for a while and are really accomplished. Martinez was a fighter pilot with the Air Force for 11 years and has a couple of space flights under his belt. And Watney is really highly regarded in his field. He’s been at NASA for a couple of years and the Goddard Center for the last eleven months. They both seem like pretty solid choices.”

“Okay,” Beck nods thoughtfully. “And how about your competition?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m just curious!” he says defensively. “Are they really good? If you’re at a disadvantage, I can smash a kneecap or fudge a medical history or something.”

She looks at him skeptically. “Calm down, stud. You and I both know it would be a cold, cold day in hell before you ever even thought about doing something unethical.”

“Not true!” Beck protests. “Miranda told me not to tell anyone all that stuff, and I told you. That’s unethical, right?”

“No,” Johanssen says. “I don’t count and you know it. If it were anyone other than me, you’d take what she told you to the grave, true or false?”

“True,” Beck admits. “But now that we’re agreed I’m not gonna kill a man to get you a spot on the mission, you have to tell me about your competition. At least it’s not that hotshot Peter Flood. I’ve never met him, but I heard he’s got a resume any of us would kill for. Software developer for the Navy, four years at JPL, thirteen years at NASA, nine space flights and SysOp on the last two moon missions. He’s back at JPL now, but apparently they only started talking to him a couple weeks back when they heard he was looking to leave JPL and come back to NASA.”

Johanssen falls silent, looking up at him dejectedly. “See, you already know about him.”

“What? No,” Beck’s faces scrunches up in confusion. “Martinez told me he dropped out because his wife got sick.”

Johanssen shakes her head. “Nope, that’s King.”

His face falls. “Shit, Beth. I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” she replies. “I came into this knowing it was a long shot. I’m only 27, I have plenty of time left here to get my chance.”

“But-”

“It’s fine, Chris. Really,” she insists. “I, uh, have a lot of work to do. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’m off tomorrow.”

“You’re never off on Thursdays,” he points out.

“Well I am tomorrow,” she says tersely.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “I’m sorry I-”

“I have a lot of work to do,” she interrupts, dodging his question. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

Beck’s at a loss for words as he walks back to his lab. Of course, her resistance to talk about things made much more sense now. Of course she didn’t want to spend time listening to him talking about the mission he was pretty much guaranteed a spot on, when her own chances weren’t looking too strong.

He doesn’t hear from her for the rest of the day. He knows she’s staying late to finish a project up, so he brings her a coffee on his way out.

She’s not at her desk, in the break room, or in her favorite hiding spot: the empty hallway near the vending machines on the fourth floor. He leaves the coffee on her desk with a note.

**Sorry I’m such a dumbass. Call me later if you want.**

**\---**

It’s a little before midnight and he’s still in his work clothes, sitting in his kitchen, reviewing the last of the results on the mice experiment he ran all day when there’s a knock on the door.

“Hi,” Johanssen says quietly when he opens the door.

“Listen, I’m sorry I was such a tool today,” Beck says. “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Johanssen interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Want to come in?” Beck offers, stepping aside. He follows her to the couch and sits beside her. He can’t help but smile when she kicks off her shoes and pulls her knees up to her chin as usual.

“I’m sorry,” they both say at the same.

“No,” she says quickly. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m just stressed out about everything and I’ve been doubting myself. And I took it out on you this morning, and I’m sorry.”

“The last thing you should be doing is doubting yourself,” Beck says. “I believe in you. You know that, right?”

She shrugs. “I mean, I knew it was always kind of a long shot, but then Mitch talked to us personally, and I guess I just got it in my head that things were looking good for me. But I assume they’re pretty serious about this Flood guy, I mean he seems incredible.”

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Beck asks. “You’re like a fucking superstar. You’re easily twice as accomplished as any other SysOp guys were at your age. And you’re brilliant and funny and beautiful all at the same time, which is something none of the others are. And if NASA doesn’t see that, fuck ‘em. It’s their loss.”

“I feel…” she pauses, thinking. “I don’t know. I guess I feel guilty. Watching everything work out for you is hard,” she admits. “Because I’m happy for you– I really am– but I keep thinking if I let that show, it’ll make me look weaker somehow. But shutting you out is the last thing I want to do.”

“You can shut me out all you want,” Beck replies. “I’m still gonna be here for you and I’m still gonna believe in you, Beth. It just… I mean, it _kills_ me that you can’t see what I see in you. Flood could have been born on Mars, for all I care. In my eyes, you would still be the best one for the job. You developed the software for the Hermes– you know the ins and outs of that ship and its operations better than anyone. Just cause he’s spent more time in space doesn’t mean he’s a better choice. He could try his hardest and still not be the SysOp you could be.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” Johanssen says, but there’s a shy smile playing on her face.

“All I’m saying is that you can’t give up yet. You don’t know what the selection committee is thinking, right? I bet that Flood guy is looking at all your credentials and crapping himself.”

“Thank you,” she says with a small laugh. “Seriously.”

“Shut me out all you want, but I’m still going to be your biggest cheerleader. No many how many times I put my foot in my mouth and might make it seem like I’m not,” Beck says sincerely. “Case in point: this morning.”

“Thank you,” she repeats, resting her head on his shoulder.. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a hot shot Doctor as my biggest fan, but I’m not complaining.”

Beck grins. “Yeah, I’m kind of a big deal.”

\---

A fews days pass, each one more uneventful than the last. Until Tuesday, when he heads downstairs to the employee gym to squeeze in a workout after his shift ends. He runs a couple miles and lifts quickly, eager to get home so he can shower and change before meeting his sister for drinks. He’s on his way out when he sees none other than Peter Flood across the locker room. He decides to introduce himself, especially since the odds are pretty fair that they’ll be working together.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees him pull a syringe out of his gym bag and inject it into his hip. Flood catches Beck staring, and nods at him. “Cortisone,” he says.

“Uh, mind if I ask what for? I’m a doctor,” Beck says.

“Pretty bad case of osteoarthritis in my left hip. Gotta do everything I can to make sure NASA still wants me,” he grins. “I’m Pete, by the way.”

Beck nods, extending his hand. “Chris.”

“Great to meet you, Chris.”

Beck nods, unsure of what to say.

“So tell me, Doc. How long you think this is gonna hang around for? It started a couple of months ago.”

“Well, uh, it’s a chronic condition. You’ll have it for life, but the flare ups come and go.”

“Well let’s hope this flare up goes pretty soon, what d’you say? Can’t have the big wigs notice anything’s off, or I’m toast.”

What Beck wants to say is _you fucking moron you can’t go to space with an undisclosed medical condition and expect NASA not to find out_ but instead he bites his tongue and replies, “I’d recommend trying a prescription anti-inflammatory if you haven’t already.”

“Nah, can’t risk having anything on my chart. I appreciate it though. I’ll stick to the cortisone my wife’s able to get me.”

Beck nods. “Well, best of luck, man.”

His mind races the entire way home. He can’t just sit on this information… he has to tell someone, right? _Right?_ But it’s medical history that was shared with him in confidence. What kind of doctor would he be if he broke the Hippocratic Oath? He does his best to push the thoughts from his head and focus on driving.

When he gets home, there’s an email waiting for him.

**\---**

**from:** [ **m.henderson@nasa.gov** ](mailto:m.henderson@nasa.gov)

**to:** [ **c.beck@nasa.gov** ](mailto:c.beck@nasa.gov)

**subj: ARES III**

 

**Dr. Beck,**

**I’m pleased to share that the selection committee has made a unanimous decision to nominate you for the Flight Surgeon/EVA Specialist position for the impending ARES mission. Congratulations.**

**Please be in my office no later than 9AM tomorrow to discuss what this means in greater detail. At the conclusion of our meeting, should you choose to accept the position, we will issue a press release and you will officially become a member of the ARES III crew.**

**Until tomorrow,**

**Mitch**

 

**Mitch C. Henderson**

**ARES Flight Director**

**Email:** **m.henderson@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 281.555.6272 x 4291**


	9. Stand By You

“Chris,” Miranda greets him with a big grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Beck glances up before looking past her at the closed door to Mitch’s office. “Uh, I’m here to see Mitch,” he says. 

“Oh, really?” she leans back in her chair. “You sure you’re not here to see me?”

“I’m sure,” he says, exasperation clear in his voice. “Here to see Mitch. Is he in?”

Miranda sighs loudly, pointing to Mitch’s door. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Beck hurries past her without another glance, knocking gently before Mitch calls him in. 

“Dr. Beck!” Mitch greets him enthusiastically from his desk chair. “Good to see you. I assume you’re here regarding my email?”

“Yes, sir,” Beck nods. “And please, call me Chris.”

“And I take it you’re accepting the position?” 

He nods eagerly. “Absolutely.”

“Perfect,” Mitch says with a big smile. “Makes my life nice and easy when we get our first choice, doesn’t it?”

Beck nods, unsure of what to say. “Well, we’re thrilled to have you coming aboard. Do you know Mark Watney and Rick Martinez?” Mitch asks, gesturing to the two guys sitting in front of his desk. 

“No,” he says as they turn in their seats to face him. “I’ve heard great things, though.”

“What the hell, Mitch?” the one on the right demands, nudging the one on the left. “This guy can’t be an astronaut. He’s too fuckin’ pretty. What d’you say, Martinez? You think he’s too pretty to work for NASA?”

Martinez shakes his head, grinning. “You must not have seen Mitch’s secretary, Watney. Apparently there’s no such thing as too pretty for NASA.”

“Just busting your balls, man,” Watney grins, standing and offering Beck his hand. “Mark Watney.”

Beck shakes his outstretched hand. “Chris Beck.” He turns to Martinez and shakes his hand as well. “Let me guess- Rick Martinez?”

“You got it,” Martinez says.

“Have a seat, Chris,” Mitch instructs. He obliges, taking the empty seat next to Martinez. “So, you all are here for a couple of reasons. I’ve already spoken with Commander Lewis, which is why she won’t be joining us this morning. But for today, we need to discuss the training schedule and the pre-training requirements. And Chris, you need to sign some paperwork.”

“You got it,” Beck nods. 

“Alright, then we’ll get right into it. You boys ready to talk Ares?”

They all nod. Beck takes the momentary silence as a chance to speak up. “There’s just one thing I wanted to talk to you about first. It’s kind of, uh, sensitive, though.” He glances over at Watney and Martinez, who are sharing a look. 

“Go ahead,” Mitch says. “You’re going to be working very closely with these guys in the years to come. No secrets.”

“Right,” Beck says, suddenly feeling nervous. “Well, I’m not sure if I should be telling you about this, since-”

“Let me stop you right there,” Mitch says firmly. “I want to be clear. Not just with you, Chris, but with all of you. I don’t want to hear any hesitation from any of you at any point, understood? Astronauts can’t hesitate,  _ especially _ not when they’re on Mars. A second spent second-guessing yourself could be the difference between life and death, and we just can’t have that. Are we understood?”

All three of them nod, and Beck wonders if this is what going to the principal’s office felt like. “But-” he begins, but Mitch interrupts him again.

“Chris, I’m serious. If you can’t be confident in your decisions, I can’t in good faith let you on this team,” he says. “No hesitations whatsoever from this point out. If you really don’t think you can do that, I need to know now so I can fill your spot.”

What Beck  _ wants _ to do is start yelling about how he slept all of forty minutes the night before, as he was up all night freaking out over the mere idea of breaking the Hippocratic Oath, practically panicking when he realized he would actually have to do it. He  _ wants  _ to tell Mitch that he spent six hours reading the actual Oath over and over, not to mention everything else he could find online about how serious it was to break, despite the extenuating circumstances. He  _ wants _ to tell Martinez and Watney to get out because they’re making him nervous, he  _ wants _ to tell Mitch to listen to what he has to say before threatening to take his spot away, wants to tell him to stop interrupting him because he rehearsed this speech so many times and he can’t lose his train of thought or he’ll probably have a nervous breakdown. 

Instead, he nods, taking a deep breath before trying again. “I wanted to bring to your attention that Peter Flood, who I believe is being considered for the SysOp position, has a bad case of osteoarthritis,” he says before he chickens out. “He’s been taking cortisone shots to manage his pain, but they’re not on his chart and neither is the diagnosis, I assume. His wife has been getting the cortisone for him.”

“Chris,” Mitch says seriously. “You understand this is a very real, very serious accusation, yes?”

He nods. “Yeah, yeah I get that. But I saw him last night in the locker room injecting himself, and then he told me about it. Granted, he didn’t know who I was, but he did tell me everything I told you. Voluntarily.”

Beck feels sick to his stomach as a silence settles over the office. He steals a glance at Watney and Martinez, who both have similar wide-eyed looks on their faces. Mitch’s lips have become a straight, almost nonexistent line, his fingers drumming against his desk slowly. 

“Well, shit,” Watney says, finally breaking the silence. 

Mitch shoots him a look, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. He shakes his head, almost in disbelief, before turning to his desk phone. “Miranda,” he says into the speakerphone. “Can you get security on the line, please?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Henderson. Hold on.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Watney kick Martinez’s shoe. They share a look before glancing at Beck. He chooses to ignore them.

After a minute in silence, the phone flashes and Mitch picks up the receiver. “Yeah, this is Mitch Henderson on the fifth floor. I’m going to need security footage from the men’s locker room… Uh, the last 24 hours should do… Great, thanks.”

He hangs up quickly before turning to face Beck. “I trust we’ll see what you’re talking about?”

“Yes, sir,” Beck nods. “I understand it’s a breach of Hippocratic Oath to be discussing this right now, but I’m sharing it with you due the extenuating circumstances and potentially dangerous repercussions, which the majority of the interpretations of the Oath permits. I just want to be clear that this is something I take very seriously, and it’s the only reason I debated bringing it up.”

“Understood,” Mitch nods. “And thank you, Chris. You’re potentially preventing a terrible oversight on NASA’s part, not to mention a pretty big scandal.”

Beck nods, still feeling a little uneasy. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Let’s talk Ares?”

“Let’s talk Ares,” Mitch nods. 

Twenty or so minutes pass before Miranda interrupts to inform Mitch that security forwarded along the footage. He opens up his laptop and finds the email, playing the footage immediately. 

“It happened around five thirty,” Beck says quietly. 

A hush falls over the room as Mitch fast forwards to the right spot in the tape, cursing under his breath as he sees what Beck was talking about. “Well, shit,” Watney says again. “Guess your job just got a lot harder, Mitch.”

“Actually,” Mitch says, closing his laptop with a sigh. “We weren’t one hundred percent about Flood yet.”

Beck is pretty sure that if he were a dog, his ears would have literally perked up. 

“Really?” Martinez asks. “So there's someone else who comes close to his credentials?”

“Actually, yes.” Mitch nods. “Beth Johanssen, she’s a software developer here. Brilliant girl, if I do say so. We actually recruited her about five years ago to oversee one of the teams that worked to develop the Hermes software. Not to mention she already has space travel under her belt and she’s trained in systems operations and redactor tech.”

“And she won hackathon when she was seventeen,” Beck adds. 

“Holy shit!” Watney exclaims. “That alone is cooler than, like, everything I’ve ever done rolled into one.”

Martinez leans back his chair. “I dunno, Watney. You haven’t exactly done very many cool things to begin with. You hang out with plants for a living.”

“I don’t think you want me to get started on you, Martinez,” Watney fires back playfully. 

“Play nice, boys,” Mitch warns. 

“I mean, she developed the software for the Hermes,” Beck says, trying his best to sound nonchalant. “I’d think she would be top of the list.”

“Honestly, the only thing that nudged Flood up to the priority spot was that he’s logged more time in space, right Mitch?” Martinez asks.

Mitch nods. "Pretty much, yeah. Two candidates, each brilliant and with exceptional backgrounds, the only real defining aspect is the flight experience."

"Although this Flood shitstorm really makes you question his brilliance, right?" Martinez asks with a small smile. "I mean, hiding a medical condition like that? For all we know, his wife got that cortisone off the black market."

“Well, there’s still time for her to go up again, right?” Beck asks. 

Mitch nods. “It would depend on the specific expedition along with the Ares training schedule, of course. But it’s not out of the question. Although as of now, I dont see the flight experience as being an issue. She's logged over a hundred days in space, and she’s really got an exceptional background. In my eyes, there’s absolutely no doubt she could get the job done.”

“Wasn’t she recruited by Brett Parker from SpaceX when she was only 20?” Beck adds. “And she was one of three women selected for the most recent ISS expedition, but she was injured right before launch, right?”

Mitch nods, impressed. “You really did your homework, didn’t you?”

Beck shrugs, trying his best to come off as casual as possible. “Word travels around here, I guess. She does sound pretty great for the job, though.”

“Plus, we want more lady astronauts,” Watney interjects. “I vote yes!”

“You don’t get a vote, Mark,” Mitch says, leaning back in his chair. “None of you do. The selection committee will have to meet today to discuss this, uh, new development of sorts. From there, we’ll decide what to do.”

“So, like, odds of us getting another lady astronaut?” Martinez asks. “Out of ten.”

“You’re dismissed,” Mitch says with an exasperated sigh. “Watney, you too. But Beck, you can stay put. Let’s get you started on some of that paperwork, yeah?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter! i'm seriously having so much fun writing this story, so it's awesome to see you guys are enjoying it just as much as i am :)
> 
> i love love love hearing your predictions, so be sure to let me know what you think is going to happen!


	10. Ship To Wreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you know a lot about space flight and are offended by how wrong certain nasa-y things are please forgive me!! just let it be known that i have absolutely no idea how to prepare for a mars mission so i honestly just made stuff up. fake it til you make it, right??

“Christopher Beck,” Johanssen all but shouts as she speed-walks into his lab. He glances up from his laptop at her before looking back at the game of solitaire he was about to win.

“Elizabeth Johanssen,” he counters, unphased. “What can I do for you?”

“You can enlighten me as to why you didn’t tell me you’re going to Mars,” she says, reaching across the table to slam his laptop closed, placing a piece of paper down in front of him.

“Ew, I told them not to use that picture,” he mutters, looking down at the printed press release.

“I heard that,” Johanssen replies, shaking her head. “You really are an asshole.”

Beck looks up with a grin. “You love it.”

“Maybe,” she admits. “But seriously, you should have told me.”

“Well, I met with Mitch this morning and accepted the job, but I didn’t want to say anything until it was totally finalized. But I mean, I guess this means it is."

“While I appreciate you making an effort to walk on eggshells around me, it’s totally unnecessary– you should have told me. I’m still your best friend, and I’m still happy for you. And no matter what happens with me, that won’t change. I just hope you know that.”

He smiles, shoving her shoulder. “You’re such a sap. And thank you- I do know that. And I hope you’re not giving up yet. I still have a good feeling,”  he says, glancing down in an effort to hide the telling look in his eyes.

“What, I can’t tell you I’m happy for you?” she replies.

“It’s weird when you say nice things to me,” he shrugs. “I don’t think I like it.”

“You’re heartbreakingly single, you have absolutely no gaming skills, no game with the ladies either, and your favorite movie is a documentary on minimally invasive heart surgery. You’re a loser.”

“That’s better,” Beck grins. “But don’t forget that it’s tied with all the Captain America movies. I should at least get a couple of cool points for that.”

Johanssen raises an eyebrow. “Amazing Spider-man is better.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna have this conversation for, like, the twenty-seventh time?”

“We’re gonna have it as many times as it takes for you to admit that Peter Parker is infinitely better than Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes,” Johanssen replies.

“Oh my god, Beth, you can’t compare them!” he groans, leaning back in his chair. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s like apples and oranges.”

“Once again you have nothing substantial to support your argument,” she says smugly. “Ergo, I win.”

“You only like Spiderman better because you think Andrew Garfield is hot. You have no real evidence either. Ergo, I win,” he shoots back.

“No real evidence?” she exclaims. “Spiderman has twice the speed, agility, and strength as Captain America and Winter Solider combined. Sure, they’re good fighters, but they could never keep up.”

“Oh my god, get out,” Beck says, shaking his head. “I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

“Every time we have this argument, it always ends the same way!” she protests. “You know I’m right but you’re too stubborn to admit it, so you just shut down.”

“Not true,” he says. She swears she can see the faintest hint of a pout on his face.

“You’re just bitter cause you have a crush on Bucky,” she grins.

“I do not have a crush on Bucky,” he replies. “What I have is great movie taste and a ton of work I need to be doing.”

“You liar,” she shakes her head. “I’d put money down that if I were to open your laptop right now, there’d be a game of solitaire up.”

“You’d lose that bet,” he says, trying his best to sound convincing.

She cocks her head to the side. “Really? Should we check, then?” She reaches for his laptop, but he pulls it out from under her hands in the nick of time.

“Goodbye, Johanssen.”

“Goodbye, Beck,” she replies, walking towards the door before turning back to face him. “And congrats, you big loser.”

He grins. “Drinks tonight?”

She nods. “You’re buying, hotshot.”

-

They’ve been at the bar for not even five minutes when Johanssen’s phone chimes with a notification. She opens the email immediately, trying not to choke on her beer when she reads it.

 

 **from:** **m.henderson@nasa.gov**

 **to:** **e.johanssen@nasa.gov**

**subj: ARES III**

 

**Johanssen:**

**I’m happy to share that the selection committee has chosen you for the SysOp/Redactor Tech position for the upcoming ARES mission. I’d like to speak with you tomorrow at 3PM regarding several mission specifics. In addition, we can discuss questions/concerns you may have before choosing to accept or decline (hopefully not) the position.**

**At this time we have also selected a candidate from the ESA to fill the Chemist position. We'll be hearing back from the ESA regarding the decision first thing in the morning tomorrow, so it’s possible that our team will be complete by tomorrow afternoon!**

**I look forward to speaking with you tomorrow. Congratulations.**

 

**Mitch C. Henderson**

**ARES Flight Director**

**Email: m.henderson@nasa.gov**

**Ph: 281.555.6272 x 4291**

 

“What’re you looking at?” Beck asks, nudging her foot under the table to get her attention.

She holds up a finger as she finishes reading. She puts her phone down, partially in shock.

“What happened?” Beck asks. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Johanssen doesn’t reply, just slides her phone across the table and lets him read the message for himself.

He breaks out into a big grin, looking up at her excitedly. “Holy shit!”

“I know!” she nods excitedly. “I… I can’t believe it.”

“I told you not to give up!” he says, passing her phone back. “You can’t underestimate yourself like that.”

“Oh my god, we’re going to Mars,” she says in disbelief.

“We’re going to Mars,” he confirms.

“To Mars,” she says, raising her bottle.

“To Mars,” he smiles.

\--

They have just over a week to finish up any projects they’re working on before training officially starts.

First is another round of physicals, drug tests, psych evaluations, and written exams. Johanssen asks Mitch what could have possibly changed in the month since they last went through the same process, to which he sighs exasperatedly and shakes his head before walking away.

After a week of compatibility testing followed by three months of basic brush up training as a group, they have two months of individual training in their own specialties. Johanssen spends two months getting herself re-acquainted with the Hermes software, practicing emergency coding and overriding, and enjoying the silence that comes with everyone else training quietly in their own areas. Beck spends his two months running tests on rats, practicing how to analyze and catalogue different types of soil samples, and typing up the emergency medical plan for if something were to happen to him and another crew member needed to fill his shoes. He tries not to think about how morbid it is, but he’s 152 pages in before he can get the thought out of his head.

After the individual training period is over, the team has a ten-day isolation test as a group followed by psych evaluations, another few weeks of training, and then another ten days of isolation, this time individually.

Everyone is given the all-clear by the psychologists, which means mission-specific training can finally begin. They have six months of training in a simulated Hermes followed by another round of physicals (this time conducted by Beck) and psych tests before the a couple months of space shuttle training and then a month of brush up before their launch date.

On the last day of Hermes training, they all decide to go out for drinks. Really though, Watney decided everyone was going out for drinks and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Can you believe we launch in four months?” Martinez asks incredulously.

Johanssen nods. “I know, right? It feels like just yesterday we were meeting for the first time.”

“And now you couldn’t imagine your life without me, right?” Martinez grins.

“And now I know more about you, Martinez, than I ever wanted to,” she deadpans.

“What?!” Martinez protests. “I’m like, everyone’s favorite.”

Vogel and Johanssen share a look before glancing over to where Watney stands, gesturing wildly with an excited look on his face as he tells Beck and Lewis a story.

“What, you think Beck is the favorite?” Martinez asks, confused.

Johanssen laughs. “No. Watney.”

Vogel nods. “Definitely Watney. But Dr. Beck… he’s a good egg,” he adds, glancing in Beck’s direction.

Martinez nods his head in agreement. “I beg to differ about Watney, but I will agree with you about Beck. He’s a good guy.”

Johanssen nods, sipping from her drink.

“Good kid,” Martinez says. “You know he almost lost his spot trying to get you on the mission, Johanssen?”

She freezes, smile dropping from her face. “Wait. He did what?”

Vogel shoots him a puzzling look, and Martinez stills, eyes widening as he tries to backtrack. “You know what? Forget I said that. I, uh, I didn’t-”

“Martinez,” Johanssen cuts him off. “Tell me what he did.”

“It’s no big deal!” Martinez insists. “Don’t get mad. All I know is that he knew they were planning to go with that guy Flood for the SysOp spot. But Chris, uh, brought some things to Mitch’s attention and nearly lost his spot on the mission in the process.”

Johanssen is completely silent, looking over Martinez’s shoulder to where Beck is leaning against the bar, talking to Watney and Lewis with a relaxed smile on his face. She places her glass down and takes a deep breath.

“Don’t be mad,” Martinez pleads. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. You’re honestly the best one for the job and we’re all psyched it’s you instead of Flood. No one thinks-”

“Right,” she says tersely. “Excuse me.”

“Wait, don’t-” Martinez begins, but he knows it’s a lost cause. Outside of work-related instructions, he knows there’s no reason to even bother trying to tell Johanssen what to do.

“Beck,” she says evenly as she steps past Martinez. He turns to face her, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he sees it’s her.

“Hey,” he greets her, excusing himself from Watney and Lewis and closing the distance between them. “Are-”

“Stop,” she says curtly, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him towards the back of the bar.

 

“Martinez!” Watney calls. Martinez turns around, raising his eyebrows.

“What’s up?”

“I got twenty bucks that says they start making out,” Watney says, wiggling his eyebrows as he gestures to where Johanssen is practically dragging Beck across the floor.

Vogel laughs abruptly. “I wouldn’t make that bet, Watney.”

 

“What the _fuck_ did you do?” she practically hisses, all but pinning him against the wall, her hand in the middle of his chest, eyebrows narrowed and lips in a straight line.

For such a small girl, she’s really, really strong, something Beck always seems to forget. He’s caught completely off guard, and a tiny bit surprised she didn’t knock the wind out of him when she shoved him into the wall. “Wait, what?”

“You went to Mitch and campaigned to have me on the mission?” she asks.

“What? No!” he shakes his head. “Well, I mean, _technically_ you could _possibly_ see it like that, yes. But no. It’s not like that, I promise.”

“Then what’s it like? Because- and please, correct me if I’m wrong- the way I see it, you went to the mission director and encouraged him to put me on this team. Right or wrong?”

Beck pauses, trying to choose his words carefully. “Well, technically, yes. But that-”

“Great. Thanks for that,” she says. “It’s bad enough I’m the youngest one here and that I’m one of the few girls in my field. But now people have even more of a reason to believe I’m under-qualified for this. Thanks so much, Chris. Really.”

He’s never seen her mad like this before. Sure he’s seen her ticked off when the coffee machine doesn’t cooperate, or when the vending machine runs out of cheez-its. He saw her pretty pissed when he miraculously beat her in Grand Theft Auto one night, and another time when she accidentally ran her ID badge through the washer and security wouldn’t let her in. But this? This is a whole new level of pissed off that Beck has never seen before. He suddenly understands the expression ‘calm before the storm’. Her voice is even– too even– almost as if she’s a bomb ticking down to zero. And he doesn’t want to be in the line of fire when she explodes.

“It’s not like that!” he argues.

“Then what?” Johanssen demands. “Am I missing something? Please tell me I am, because I really want to go to Mars. Like I really, _really_ want to go to Mars. But I wanted to get there on my own, not because you had to go to bat for me behind my back. That’s just…. I mean, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but you get how shitty that is, right?”

He has no idea what to say. He can’t break the Hippocratic Oath for a second time to tell her about Flood’s condition. Telling Mitch was one thing, but there’s absolutely no legal justification for telling Beth now. But god, he considers it. It’s only the second time in his life he’s ever really thought about it- breaking the oath he’s always taken more seriously than anything. And for a second he almost does it.

He realizes, with his heart racing, his back pressed against a cold brick wall in some random Houston bar, his eyes trying to focus on anything other than the angry tears starting to well in her eyes, that for her, he would do it. In this moment, he would do just about anything to get those tears to stop building up, to get her to just trust him. But he knows he can’t- knows he has to fight the urge to throw everything he believes in away for her. “Listen, I can’t really explain it but-” he begins.

She interrupts him almost immediately. “Just stop. I… I don’t want to hear excuses. I think I deserve a little more than that.”

“You do,” Beck agrees immediately. “But I can’t-”

“Just stop,” she says, much quieter this time. “I just…. I think I just want some space right now. I’m, uh, I’m gonna get a cab,” she says, turning to go.

“Beth, wait!” he calls after her, reaching out to grab her wrist.

“It’s Johanssen,” she spits back, tugging her arm from his gentle grip and walking out, pausing only to slap a five dollar bill against the bar as she passes. That, he realizes, was her explosion. Of everything she could have said, could have done to have hurt him, she knew that was the one that would cut him the deepest.

The rest of the crew is staring at Beck with wide eyes when he finally stops staring at the door after her cab has pulled away. As soon as he turns to face them, they avert their eyes and pretend they weren’t watching the whole thing.

“Chris,” Martinez begins, voice full of remorse. “Dude-”

“Save it,” Beck replies calmly, walking past them all before stopping in his tracks, turning to face Martinez. “Don’t forget to hydrate before your blood work on Monday, Martinez. It’d be a real shame if I were to have trouble finding a vein.”

“No!” Martinez protests. “Commander, he can’t do that, right? Threaten me?”

Lewis smiles knowingly. “He can do whatever he wants as long as it doesn’t screw with our mission or undermine authority.”

“I’m, uh, gonna call it a night,” Beck says. Everyone nods in understanding. Martinez tries to follow him to the other side of the bar to close out his tab, but Beck shakes his head. “Not now, Martinez.”

“Come on, dude. I feel like shit, it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s fine,” Beck says. And he means it. “Really, it’s okay. I mean, she was probably gonna find out at one point or another. Better now than millions of miles from home, right?”

Martinez sighs. “Yeah, I mean I guess. But still-”

“I said it’s fine,” Beck repeats.

“Martinez,” Lewis says, appearing behind the two of them. “Can I steal Dr. Beck for a few minutes before he goes?”

Martinez nods, patting Beck on the back before heading back to the Watney and Vogel.

“Commander?” Beck asks.

“I just want to be clear,” she begins. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Johanssen, and frankly, I don’t want to know. Just know that whatever it is– if it’s _anything_ more than friendship– it won’t be coming on my ship.”

“I don’t understand,” Beck is a little taken aback. _Does she think they’re a thing? Does… does everyone think they’re a thing?_ “We’re not-”

“Look at it like this,” she says. “You’re red, and Johanssen is blue. There will be no purple at any point during the Ares III mission. Understood?”

“Yes,” Beck nods, fighting to keep the blush he feels creeping up his neck at bay. “Completely understood, Commander. But please know that there’s nothing going on. We’ve known each other for a while and-”

“Like I said, Beck, I don’t want to know. As long as it doesn’t come on my ship I don’t care what you do in your personal life. But the second it affects _any_ aspect of the mission, know that I won’t think twice about handling it.”

“Absolutely. I understand,” Beck replies, thinking to himself how much respect he has for Lewis. He can’t think of anyone else who could be so no-bullshit and so likeable at the same time.

“No purple,” she says with a smile.

“No purple,” he confirms. She nods, clapping him on the shoulder before returning to the others. He quickly grabs his coat and makes his escape before anyone else tries to talk to him.

“Where to?” the cab driver asks as he closes the door. Before he can stop himself, he recites Johanssen’s address. The cab driver nods, pulling away. Beck sits back and closes his eyes, trying to convince himself that it’s too late now to correct himself and go to his own apartment. Oh well.

He hesitates before getting out of the cab. He’s sober enough to know he needs to make things right with Johanssen, but just drunk enough to decide that this is the way to do it. He knows she’s going to be too stubborn to buzz him up, so he punches in the entry code she gave him a while ago when she started getting too lazy to get off the couch to buzz him up. He gets to her door and knocks a couple times, but there’s no response.

She comes to the door just as he’s about to give up and go home. “What do you want?” she asks, eyes red.

He had planned to go into a big speech on how he cared about her, followed by begging her to trust him that things weren’t as they seemed. Instead, he blurts out, “Were you crying?”

She moves to close the door in his face, but he sticks his foot out between the door and the frame. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Please let me explain.”

“Why should I?” she asks.

“Because if you knew-”

“If I knew, what? What then? I would suddenly be okay with this?” she demands.

“Just…. please,” he says. She sighs, opening the door the rest of the way and letting him in.

“Please, Beck, tell me if I’m wrong. But if memory serves, you went to the flight director behind my back and had to tell him to put me on this team, and if that conversation hadn’t happened, I probably wouldn’t have been picked.”

“I mean, that’s technically right, but it didn’t happen like that. You have to understand that the only reason I had to do any of it-”

“You didn’t have to do anything!” she yells. “I don’t need you fighting my fucking battles!”

“Yeah, I needed to!” he shouts back. “Because if I didn’t, they would made a huge mistake, and  you would have been screwed out of something you fucking deserve!”

“Who are you to decide what I do and don’t deserve?” she demands. “Don’t you think NASA should be the one to figure that out?”

“You don’t understand and I know that’s my fault, because there are things that I just can’t tell you. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

"See, you keep asking me to listen, to understand, but you're not giving me anything!" she exclaims. "You can't justify what you did, and that's what's so infuriating."

"You're right, I can't," Beck says. "And I'm sorry. Just try to trust me that I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't necessary."

"Necessary?" she demands. "Necessary?! You didn't have to do anything! It's not your job to go to bat for me, okay?"

"I know you're perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and I know it's not my job to fight your battles. But this was my battle, not yours. And it needed to be fought."

“I think you should just go,” she says quietly. “I appreciate that you came here to try to make things right, but it’s pretty clear we’re not getting anywhere. And at this point, I really just want to be alone.”

“Come on,” he practically begs. “Just please try and-”

“I’ll see you on Monday,” she says, opening the door.

He sighs dejectedly, looking at her with one last pleading look as he steps into the hallway. 

“Goodnight,” she says, closing the door behind him.


	11. Just Can't Let Her Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just gonna leave this here and pretend it's not long overdue and super short.... everyone play along ;)

It’s been three days since Beck has seen Johanssen by the time it’s her turn for a physical. She hasn’t returned any of his texts, and honestly he doesn’t blame her. 

“Been feeling alright lately?” he asks as she sits on the exam table. 

She nods, keeping her eyes trained on the wall behind him.  

“Good,” he says. “Experiencing any fatigue? Headaches? Dehydration? Any points of concern I should be made aware of?” 

“I just said I’ve been feeling fine,” she says. It’s the first time he’s heard her voice since she kicked him out of her apartment three days ago. Normally he would bristle at the hostility in her voice, but instead he’s just happy she finally gave up on the silent treatment. 

“Right,” he says. “Can you roll up your sleeve for me, please?” 

She opens her mouth to make a snide comment, but thinks better of it, reminding herself to stay professional. Instead, she does as she’s told, and he takes her blood pressure. “117 over 76,” he nods, satisfied as he reaches for his stethoscope. “Breathe in.” 

He runs through the rest of his checklist, and she manages to go the rest of the appointment without speaking. “Okay, all done here,” he says finally. “Clean bill of health, as usual. You can send Watney in.”

She nods, tugging her favorite NASA hoodie on over her uniform shirt. “Beth, wait-” he says as she stands up. 

She just shakes her head, walking out before he has a chance to try again to stop her. 

“Jesus, Beck. I can still feel the tension in here,” Watney says, taking a seat in the simulated medical bay. “She still icing you out?”

Beck nods. “Can’t blame her, though. If I were her, I would hate me, too.”

“You didn’t ask for my advice, but I’m gonna give it anyway,” Watney replies. “If you’re gonna spend a year in space together, you gotta make things right. I mean, at least learn to be cordial with each other.”

“You don’t think I want to make things right?” Beck asks. “I called and texted her all weekend, but she doesn’t want anything to do with me. She said all of like seven words to me today.”

“I dunno, man. I think you gotta just tell her what happened. If she knew, she’d understand.”

“I know,” Beck says. “But I can’t. I’m bound by the Hippocratic Oath and HIPAA laws- you know that. Even though I’m not the guy’s doctor, I still can’t go around sharing info about his medical history. He told it to me in confidence and-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Watney cuts him off. “I know. I’m just saying. Mitch, Rick and I already know. What’s one more?”

“A breach of oath is what it is,” Beck replies. 

Watney grins, shoving Beck’s shoulder. “You’ve always been a play-by-the-rules guy, haven’t you?” 

Beck shrugs. “Rules are established for a reason. In medicine, errors often occur when people cut corners and disobey the regulations that’ve been set in place.”

“So yes,” Watney says. 

\--

Three more weeks go by before Watney has had enough. “Beck,” he declares, barging into the simulated medical bay. 

Beck looks up from the boxes of supplies he’s in the middle of labeling, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“We need to chat,” Watney says, sliding a few boxes of gauze in Beck’s direction before hoisting himself up to sit on the countertop.

“Watney, there’s a chair right there,” Beck says with an exasperated sigh. “And conveniently, it’s not right next to my inventory.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see you all flustered and annoyed,” Watney smirks. “And really, what fun would that be?”

“Speak,” Beck instructs, looking back at his clipboard. 

“Yeah, so I would just like to go on record saying that you and Johanssen are driving me up the fucking wall.”

“That so?” Beck asks. “Kind of hard to do if we’re not speaking.”

“Exactly,” Watney says. “You two need to make up. It’s so awkward watching you tiptoe around each other.”

“It’s not up to me.”

Watney groans. “Dude, whenever the two of you are in the same room, it’s like, the most uncomfortable thing that’s ever happened. You have to do something!”

“Again, not up to me.”

“Are you trying to ruin my life?” Watney whines. “I can’t deal with another year of this- the Hermes isn’t that big, you know. The secondhand awkwardness will kill me long before the radiation poisoning.”

“No one’s getting radiation poisoning,” Beck says. “The health plans have been meticulously crafted and I’ve run the numbers like ten times over. Also, it’s scientifically impossible to die from secondhand awkwardness. I mean, you would need to have a sudden adrenalin rush so intense it stops your heart, which isn’t even possible since there are trace amounts of atenolol in the pills that NASA gives us for-”

“No!” Watney protests, jumping down from the counter. “No doctor talk! Just fix things with Johanssen.”

\--

Watney rolls his lab chair over to the door and pokes his head into the hallway. “Hey, Johanssen!” he calls. 

She appears in the hallway after a few seconds, tablet in hand. “You rang?” she raises an eyebrow. 

“C’mere.”

“Why?” she groans. “I’m busy, Mark. I don’t have time for you and Martinez to bother me about if-”

“It’s urgent,” he interrupts. “I promise.”

She sighs, pushing his chair out of the way and entering the lab. “What is it?”

“You need to know why Beck did what he did, and you need to know how it all went down. I’m sick of the awkwardness and the tension all the time, and Lewis is starting to notice. So really, it’s in everyone’s best interest for me to just come out with it, since I’m pretty sure Beck won’t say anything.”

“Listen, Watney. I appreciate it, but-”

“Just hear me out,” Watney insists. 

She nods, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. “Okay.”

\--

“Chris,” she says softly, appearing at the entrance to the medical bay. He looks up, surprised to see her. And hear her, honestly. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, standing up quickly. “You feeling okay?”

She nods, stepping over the threshold slowly. “Uh, I was hoping we could talk.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Absolutely.”

She stands still for a minute, wringing her hands as she searches for the right words. 

“I’m sorry,” they both say at the same time. 

“No, wait,” she interrupts before he can say anything. “Just… just let me apologize.”

He nods, still a little surprised she’s even talking to him, let alone trying to apologize. “Go ahead.”

“Please don’t be mad,” she begins. “But Watney told me everything.”

“Everything?” Beck asks. Sure, he’s a little ticked that Watney went and told her when Beck had made it particularly clear that no one else could know about Flood. But really, he’s focused on the way he seems to relax with her words. Almost like there was something on his chest, slowly crushing him more and more as time passed, and suddenly it was gone and he could breathe again. 

She nods. “I’m sorry for how I was when everything went down, and how I’ve pretty much been avoiding you since. It’s just that hearing about what happened from Martinez sucked, honestly,” she says, taking a deep breath as she tries to gather her thoughts. “I was embarrassed, and confused, and I felt like I couldn’t trust you, which I think was the worst part of it all.”

Beck sighs, looking up to meet her eyes. “You can always trust me,” he says. “You should know that.”

“I know,” she replies. “Which is why when everything happened and you couldn’t explain it to me, I just kind of disappeared for a while. I guess I just didn’t know how to act around you when seemed like someone else.” 

“I wanted to tell you,” Beck says. “I can’t even count all the times I almost did. I know what I did wasn’t ideal and I know I could have handled it better, but I was scared. I felt like my hands were tied, and I was just really, really scared. I could have lost my license if I let anyone else find out.” 

She nods. “I know. And that’s what makes you you,” she says with a small smile. “And I know that, and I’ve spent the last couple of years knowing that. You’re a play by the rules kind of guy, and I should be used to it by now. It doesn’t mean I always understand it, but I respect it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says after a minute. “Really, I am.”

“Me, too,” she replies. “So I guess we have something in common.”

“Guess so,” he smiles, turning back to his laptop. 

She hoists herself up onto the exam table, laying back and looking up at the overhead lights. “I missed you,” she says.

“You mean you missed having someone to pick on?” he asks. 

“As if,” she scoffs, propping herself up on her elbows to glare at him. “You’re the one always riding me about my health and my safety and my caffeine consumption.”

“And you’re the one who never shuts up about my love life and my gaming skills,” he replies.

“Both of which are nonexistent,” she says.

He can’t help but smile at how good normal things finally seem. “See, there you go again.”

“So get a girlfriend or beat me at something other than Grand Theft Auto once on a technicality.”

Beck forces himself to smile so he doesn’t think about how she’s the only girlfriend he’s interested in, or how she’s the only person he can handle losing to. “As soon as you quit caffeine.”

“Well that’s not happening,” she replies. 

“Then be quiet and let me work.”

“Yes, Doctor. Anything for you,” she smiles, lying down again and closing her eyes. “Wake me up in 20 minutes and don’t tell Lewis.”

"Anything for you,” he repeats. 


	12. I Wish You Would

Ten days before the mission starts, Lewis pulls Vogel, Watney, Martinez and Beck aside while Johanssen is off speaking with Mitch about something. 

“Gentlemen,” she begins. “We need to have a quick chat about Johanssen.”

Beck straightens up a bit, Lewis’s words coupled with Beth’s absence sparking an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He opens his mouth to ask what happened to her and if she’s alright, but Lewis continues before he has the chance. 

“Under no circumstances do any of you try to make a pass at her,” Lewis says. 

That uneasy feeling is still raging in Beck’s stomach, even though he had figured it would go away once he found out Johanssen was alright. 

“I’m a married man, Commander!” Martinez protests playfully. “And you know full well if I were to leave my wife it would be for Watney and Watney only,” he jokes, clapping Watney on the shoulder with a big grin.

“I can’t speak for the others, Commander, but I only have eyes for Martinez,” Watney chimes in.

“Alright, boys. Glad to hear it,” Lewis smiles. “In all seriousness, let me be clear. This isn’t to say Johanssen isn’t a professional or that you all can’t keep it together for the duration of the mission. It’s more of me giving you a heads-up that if I find out about anything unprofessional happening, I’m not going to be happy. And that goes for everyone, not just with Johanssen.”

“Looking at you, loverboys,” Beck says, glancing at Watney and Martinez.

“You can’t stifle the flames of our love, Beck,” Watney replies.

“I can try.”

“So we’re all clear,” Lewis says, and it’s more of a statement than a question. They all nod, and Beck doesn’t miss the way Lewis looks at him a little longer than she does everyone else.  “Great. Back to work,” Lewis instructs.

Beck tries to make a quick exit, but Lewis places a hand on his shoulder gently as he turns to leave. “No purple,” she says, quickly and quietly enough that he’s the only one who can hear her. He’s left standing still wondering why a lump is rising in his throat as she walks past him. He keeps his head down for the rest of the day and by the time he gets in his car to go home, the uneasiness in his gut still hasn’t subsided. 

 

\--

 

Beck would be a liar if he said things weren’t awkward between him and Johanssen. Launch is only two days away, and every time he sees her, he shuts down a little bit inside, trying to force himself to just be professional.

_ Professional.  _ The word has been ringing in his ears since Lewis’s talk a week or so back. It’s a weird idea, he thinks.  _ Professional. _ What does it actually mean? 

“We haven’t hung out all week,” Johanssen complains one day. “Let’s do something.”

“Not tonight,” he says. “I haven’t been sleeping well, so I kinda just want to get an early night.” 

He’s still up at 2:33 AM, re-reading the same medical journal he’s read five or six times before. 

_ Professional.  _

Another day, they’re in some boring meeting with a bunch of NASA bosses talking on and on about mission protocol, even though they know it inside and out. It’s been going on for nearly two hours when she sends him a text from two chairs over. He sees her name light up on his phone and catches her expectant look in his peripherals. He switches his phone off and keeps his gaze trained on the speaker. 

_ Professional.  _

He actually looks it up one night when he can’t sleep. “Of or relating to a profession” is what he gets. So can he not talk to her unless it’s related to work? And what profession exactly? Doctor or astronaut? It’s 3:39 AM and he closes his laptop and stares up at his ceiling, wondering why this is the shit that keeps him up at night.    
  


\--

They’ve been on the Hermes for three days when Lewis appears in the medical bay. “Beck,” she says. “NASA would like the forty-eight hour health reports by the end of the day. Johanssen can take over inventory while you finish up.” 

He looks up from where he’s unpacking a box of bandages and nods. “Sure,” he says, even though he’s not looking forward to it. 

“Hey you,” Johanssen says when she comes in a few minutes later. Beck looks up from his computer and nods at her. “Anything special I need to do?” she asks, taking a seat in front of the boxes Beck had been unpacking. 

“Nope,” he replies, passing her a tablet and a label maker. “Just unpack, count, label, and mark down on this tablet how many there are and where you’re putting them. But I already labeled all the shelves and cabinets with what goes where yesterday. So you’ll know.”  

“Cool,” she says, getting to work. She tries to talk to him a couple different times, but he’s pretty unresponsive. 

_ Professional _ , he reminds himself. 

 

\--

It’s two weeks into the mission when Mark says, “I thought you and Johanssen were done with all the tension.” He’s in the shower while Beck brushes his teeth at the nearby sink. 

“There’s no tension,” Beck says around his toothbrush, even though he knows it’s completely untrue. 

“Like fuck there isn’t!” Watney laughs. “I saw her in the medical bay earlier fixing the lighting panel. I could have cut the tension with your forceps.”

“Forceps don’t cut, you idiot,” Beck replies, rinsing his mouth. 

“Fine. Then your ten-blade. It’s all the same, really.”

“Actually, it’s not. A ten-blade is a style of scalpel used-”

“Don’t start,” Watney says. “And don’t try to defend yourself either. Just admit that there’s been a ton of tension between the two of you. And then promise me you’re going to fix it.”

“You’re right,” Beck admits. “Things have been weird between us. But there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No way. I call bullshit.”

“Call it all you want. I’m telling you- I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Watney scoffs. “Except for acting like someone shoved a stick up your ass every time you see her.” 

“Not true,” Beck replies. “I’m just being a professional. It’s not like I’m icing her out.”

“So this is about what Lewis said?” Watney asks. “You have a thing for Johanssen?”

“No,” he lies. “We’re just good friends. With a kind of messy history.”

“What, did you guys have a thing?”

“No,” he lies again. “Just really good friends before all of this. And then the whole Flood thing screwed things up. We were back to normal for a little, but now that we’re on this mission, I think Lewis is right. We all need to focus on being professional.”

“There’s a difference between being professional and being a dick,” Watney answers.

“I’m not being a dick,” Beck protests. “Just trying to make sure nothing gets in the way of my work. The country has put a lot of faith and money into us being here.”

“I hear you,” Watney says. “All I’m saying is that this petty childish stuff you’ve been doing is interfering with your work more than a quick screw before bedtime would.”

“Whatever,” Beck sighs, putting his toiletry kit back in the cabinet where it belongs. 

“Hey, Beck,” Johanssen appears, poking her head around the entryway to the bathroom. Her eyes are squeezed shut. “You decent?”

“He is, but I’m not,” Watney calls from the shower. “So come on in, Johanssen. There’s room for two in here.”

“Piss off, Watney,” she replies, opening her eyes. “You have a minute?” she asks as Beck turns to face her.

He nods, motioning to the entryway. He follows her out and into the corridor. “You alright?” he asks.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she demands. 

“What?” 

She sighs. “Every time I’ve tried to talk to you these past few weeks, you assume something’s wrong. Nothing has to be wrong for me to want to talk to you.”

“I’m just trying to be professional,” he replies. “I’m the flight doctor, my primary concern is everyone’s health and safety while-”

“Don’t you dare give me that speech,” she says, clearly upset. “I thought we were done tiptoeing around each other. Guess not.” She starts to walk away, but he grabs her wrist. 

“Don’t-” he starts.

“I don’t think it’s very  _ professional _ for me to be alone in a corridor with my flight surgeon when I’m supposed to be working.”

“Johanssen!” he hisses, praying no one else can hear them. “Wait.”

She gives him a look of absolute annoyance before turning to go. “I’ll see you later, Doctor Beck,” she says, leaving for real this time. 

Beck turns the other way to head to his bunk and bumps right into Watney.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

Beck shakes his head. “Nope,” he says, popping the “p”. 

“Right,” Watney nods, clapping him on the back as he walks past. “Well if you do, you know where to find me.”

 

It’s 2:37AM Houston time and Beck is still awake, staring up at the ceiling of his bunk. He’s mad at himself for acting like a child, mad at Watney for being right, mad at Johanssen for actually calling him on his crap, mad at Lewis for her stupid rules and her stupid nosiness and how he still can’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling from a few weeks back.

He throws back his blanket and gets up, grabbing his watch off its charger. He taps in Johanssen’s code and sees her watch is still online. He connects to her earpiece. “You up?” he asks. He’s met with silence for a minute before he hears her sigh. “Yeah. Can’t get used to sleeping here,” she says quietly. “You okay?” she adds, mocking his voice from earlier. 

“Can we talk?” he asks. 

“Sure,” she replies. “But stay in your bunk, Lewis is still awake.”

He nods, before realizing she can’t see him. Three short beeps come through his earpiece. “What was that?” he asks. 

“Just switching off the memory in our earpieces. It won’t store our conversation,” she explains. “Unless you were going to say something you wanted in the NASA archives forever.”

“Definitely not,” he says. 

“Didn’t think so.”

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he begins. “You’re right, you know. I’ve been tiptoeing around you lately. It’s just… I feel like I can’t be myself anymore.”

“Chris,” she sighs. “If this is about the whole Flood thing, then-”

“No,” he interrupts. “It’s not. It’s about us working together in close quarters for a year. I’m not sure if she said anything to you, but Commander Lewis was talking about professionalism-”

“Oh,” she says, realization suddenly dawning on her. “Yeah, that.”

“Yeah,” he says, drumming his fingers against his mattress absentmindedly. “I just… I’m torn. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, but at the same time, I want my best friend back.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” she replies. “Sure, we had a little rough patch. But things were back to normal for a few weeks. Until you pushed me away.”

He sighs deeply, searching for the right words. “You’re right. I did.”

“I mean, this whole thing where we’re tense around each other… it has to stop, Chris. We’re in space together– going to Mars together– and yeah, we should be working hard and making NASA proud, but we should also be goofing off and having fun and just enjoying it, not tensing up the second the other enters the room. I mean, how much time did we spend fantasizing about this mission? You don’t have to ice me out to be professional. You can still be my friend.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m realizing that now.”

“I feel like this whole mutual annoyance thing is worse than any unprofessional shit we could get ourselves into,” she says. “I can’t speak for you, but it’s affecting my work. Truth is, my best work happens when you’re around. Back at NASA, you would break up my day and keep me entertained. I need someone like you to keep me on my toes.”

“Did you just admit you need me?” he teases. 

“Semantics,” she smiles to herself.

“I keep telling myself that the ship is why I can’t sleep, but really I’m up all night with my mind racing,” Beck admits. “I just want you to be my friend again.”

“Like I said- I never went anywhere.”

“Forgive me?” he asks. 

“Hmm,” she teases. “What’s in it for me?”

“My presence is a present,” Beck replies, grinning to himself. 

“Mhmm,” she smiles. “Don’t I know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter after this with watney for a little while... which makes me sad cause he is SO fun to write! anyway, hope you enjoyed :)


	13. Avalanche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I AM SORRY this took so so so long!! i had so much trouble writing this chapter and i dont' really know why. i literally scrapped everything and started over four different times, and i'm at the point now where i don't love what i have but i know if i don't post it and move on, i'll likely never post again on this story. and i just love chris and beth and this story far too much for that to happen. 
> 
> so i'm sorry this isn't one of my best and extra sorry it took me almost three weeks. i pinky promise the next chapter will be better and up super soon. love youzzzz

The following afternoon, Watney and Martinez are sitting across from each other in the kitchen, tossing peanut M&Ms into each other’s mouths when Watney declares, “I’d bet my left nut that Beck and Johanssen hook up before we get to Mars.”

Martinez doesn’t miss a beat, shaking his head and replying, “I’ll take that action. I say it all goes down on the return trip.”

“No way,” Watney argues. “Remember that nasty fight they had last year? The one you caused?”

“Fuck off and get to the point,” Martinez says, chucking a piece of candy across the table without warning. 

Watney catches it in his mouth effortlessly. “Nice try,” he says as he chews. “Anyway, think about that fight and think about how weird they’ve been since the mission started. All I’m saying is I bet there’s still some unresolved tension there. This ship’s only so big, you know?”

Martinez shrugs. “Maybe, but Beck’s like the most professional guy I’ve ever met. And Johanssen is so hard to read.”

“She’s not that hard to read!” Watney argues. “She likes to sit quietly and play weird video games. And she writes code for fun. She’s a super nerd, not some sort of enigma.”

“I say return trip,” Martinez replies. “You want this action or nah?”

“Before Mars,” Watney declares. “Stakes?”

“Your left nut, I thought,” Martinez deadpans. 

“Last bag of peanut M&Ms?” Watney suggests. “With the way we’re blowing through them, we’ll run out in a few months. We could save one for the last week.”

Martinez nods, extending his hand. “You’re on.”

\--

“What are you doing?” Johanssen asks, coming up behind Watney one morning, about a month later. 

“Observing,” Watney whispers, keeping his eyes trained on where Beck is sitting on the other side of the kitchen at the table, trying to pull a loose thread off of his sweatshirt. 

“He’s been at it for-” he pauses, checking his watch. “Eight minutes. God, it’s just sad. And I bet he’s listening to, like, classical music,” he adds, nodding at Beck’s headphones.

“I think what’s sad is that you’ve been watching him for eight minutes,” Martinez chimes in, grabbing a coffee mug from the overhead cabinet. 

Watney shrugs. “He’s just too calm. I kinda just want to see him snap.”

Beth thinks about it and realizes she’s never once seen him angry. The more she thinks, she realizes the worst she’s ever seen was mild annoyance, but even those times were always about stupid things like someone parking too close to his car, or the wifi cutting out at inconvenient times. And sure, she’s seen him frustrated, indifferent, and exasperated. But as hard as she tries, she can’t think of even one time when he was genuinely mad. And as much as she hates to admit it, she finds herself kind of agreeing with Watney. It  _ would  _ be interesting to see him flip out. Just once. 

“Well you’re terrible,” she says, shaking her head and passing Martinez the sugar packets. 

“You really are,” Martinez nods. 

“I’ve known him for a couple years now and I’ve never seen him honestly angry,” Johanssen adds. “So don’t hold your breath.”

“I bet I could get him pissed before either of you could,” Watney says. 

“I doubt it,” Martinez says. 

“Wanna bet?”

“Not really.”

“No.”

“You guys are boring,” Watney says. 

“Dude, you should really stop trying to make bets you’re bound to lose,” Martinez adds. 

“What bets have you been making, Watney?” Johanssen asks. 

Watney and Martinez share a quick look. Martinez opens his mouth, no doubt to stammer out some backtrack. Luckily, Mark cuts him off before he has a chance to put his foot in his mouth. “Martinez here swears the Mets are gonna win the series,” he says smoothly. “I said no, of course it’s going to be the Cubs. But he still thinks one of the worst teams in baseball has a shot. His Brooklyn zip code has yanked the wool over his eyes, I guess.”

“Whatever,” Johanssen shrugs. “You know, if you want, I can work the numbers tonight and give you the actual odds for each team.”

“You, Johanssen, are a super nerd,” Watney declares, patting the top of her head before walking over to Beck and tugging the string off on his first try. 

\--

A couple more weeks pass by, each one more uneventful than the last.  Watney is especially bored one evening, so he gives up on trying to read one of the books on his laptop and heads into the kitchen, where Beck, Johanssen, Martinez and Vogel are sitting around the table. Vogel and Martinez are watching quietly as Johanssen attempts to teach Beck to read binary code. 

“Pretty amusing, actually,” Vogel says in response to Mark’s raised eyebrow. “He gets so frustrated, but he won’t stop trying.”

“I don’t get it,” Beck says quietly, almost as if on cue. “Why use eight numbers when you could use one letter? It’s just pointless. I mean-” 

“Chris, it’s binary code. My five year old cousin reads it for fun,” Johanssen says, cutting him off. “Stop pretending you don’t understand why it’s used and just take a deep breath and try again."

“Yeah well I’m in space and your five year old cousin is probably still wetting the bed, so I’m not that impressed,” Beck mutters. 

“This is like, the most basic type of code, along with ASCII. It just gets harder from here,” Johanssen says, leaning back in her chair and sighing. “If you want to give up, you can.”

“I’m not a fucking quitter,” Beck says calmly, giving her a look of pure offense. “This one says  _ Beck _ ,” he adds, pointing to a line of numbers on the screen.    
“No,” Vogel interrupts. “It says  _ NASA _ .”

“Are you even trying?” Johanssen asks.

“Wait- Vogel, you can read code?” Beck asks, glancing up. 

Vogel nods. “I taught myself in primary school.”

“Fucking A,” Beck mumbles. 

Watney and Martinez both laugh out loud. “In America, we call that adding insult to injury, my friend,” Watney says, patting Vogel on the back. 

“Sorry,” Vogel offers, but no one misses the amused grin on his face. 

“You could try teaching him, Vogel,” Watney suggests. “Maybe it would help if he had an attractive teacher. I mean, the one he’s got now is a real sight for sore eyes.”

Johanssen glances up at Beck expectantly, but he doesn’t get mad. He just sighs and passes the tablet back to Johanssen calmly, mumbling something about going to run on the treadmill before disappearing. 

“You suck,” Martinez says the second Beck is out of earshot. “You are actually the worst, Watney.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Watney grins. 

“You were totally trying to piss him off.”

Watney shrugs, winking before walking out. 

\--

A week later, they’re hit by a small meteor. It’s early in the morning when the ship jolts, boxes falling from shelves and personal items rolling onto the floor. Lewis’s voice comes through the crew’s earpieces immediately, calling everyone out from their bunks and into the kitchen.

Everyone’s fine, and Martinez and Johanssen are able to confirm it was a small meteor that hit while they were asleep. “Everyone okay?” Lewis asks. She’s relieved to receive five nods in return.

“The boxes flew off the shelves and out of the cabinets in the med bay,” Watney says. “I passed by on my way here. There’s stuff everywhere.”

Lewis sighs, nodding slowly. “Alright. Watney, help Beck get everything back in order while I get in touch with Houston. Beck, if you need an extra set of hands beyond Watney, you can pull Vogel from the chem lab. His work today isn’t time sensitive. Sound good?”

Vogel, Watney and Beck all nod, heading off. And sure enough, the med bay is a complete mess- the cabinets don’t bolt closed in case of emergencies, which has resulted in supplies everywhere. “Let me know if you need me,” Vogel says before floating down the corridor towards the chem lab. 

“So I guess you can just pick up any of the labeled boxes you see and find its contents,” Beck says to Watney. “Count everything and mark it down so I can check it against last week’s inventory. I’ll help you as soon as I clean up the stuff that actually spilled.”

Watney nods, getting to work while Beck tackles a puddle of spilled peroxide on the floor. They make casual conversation as they work, talking about mundane things like their favorite craft beers and how loudly Martinez was snoring the night before. Beck is in the middle of explaining the cause of snoring when Watney interrupts him, shouting “Holy shit, no way!”

“What’dya find?” Beck asks, turning to face him.

Watney proudly holds up a strip of condoms. “I didn’t know they gave us condoms!”

Beck nods. “Well, yeah. The worst possible thing that could happen would be an Ares baby.”

“Or an Ares STI,” Watney adds.

“Everyone was tested the day before launch,” Beck shakes his head. 

“So NASA is encouraging us, is what you’re saying,” Watney wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I never said that!” Beck protests. “I think they’re just smart enough to do everything in their power to prevent an Ares baby. On the off chance any two idiots are dumb enough to even think about it.”

“Well I’m gonna take a few.”

“Don’t you dare. Surely you know better than to be a homewrecker,” Beck teases. “Martinez is happily married.”

“Yeah, but Johanssen isn’t.”

The friendly smile on Beck’s face drops immediately. “What did you just say?” he demands. 

“I said Johanssen isn’t,” Watney repeats, fighting to keep his expression neutral. He’s so close to getting Beck to snap, he can almost taste it.  _ Don’t blow it now, Mark. _

“I swear to God, Mark, if you even think-”

“If I even think what?” Watney plays dumb.

Beck is silent for a minute, cheeks flushed. He takes a deep breath in before grabbing the clipboard from beside Watney. “You can, uh, you can go now. I’ll take care of the rest of this.”

_ Shit, _ Watney thinks. He missed his chance. “I’m still gonna take a few of these,” he tries. 

Beck nods absentmindedly, staring at the checklist in his hands and trying to keep his hands from shaking too much. “Whatever, Mark. Just go. Please.”

Watney does as he’s asked, placing a couple of boxes on the exam table before disappearing. 

Beck finishes cleaning up in record time, flying through his inventory check faster than he ever has before. He hurries to restock the shelves and print off his inventory confirmation for Lewis before storming out. 

He keys Johanssen’s code into his watch and connects to her earpiece. “Where are you?” he asks, fighting to keep his voice even. 

“Airlock 1,” she says. “I need to check the-”

“Okay,” he cuts her off, pushing off a grab handle and floating in the right direction. He sees her a second later when the airlock door opens. She floats out, eyes widening in surprise when she sees him.

“Everything okay?” She asks. 

He grabs her gently, pulling her back into the airlock. 

“It’s cold in here,” she complains. “What’s wrong?”

“Listen,” he begins. “You’re an adult and you can make your own decisions. And I’m always going to support you, but this just isn’t a good idea. I mean, messing around with Watney is one thing, but doing it while you’re on a mission is just really bad judgment. I mean, you could lose your job, what with breaking the no-fraternization rule, not to mention-”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” she asks. “I’m not doing anything with Watney.”

“But he-”

“Oh, I’m gonna kill him,” she says, realization dawning on her. “We’re not fooling around! I promise. He’s just bored and trying to piss you off.”

“Trying to piss me off?” Beck asks. “Why?”

Johanssen chews her lip, shrugging. “I dunno. None of us have ever seen you mad. He’s curious.”

“What? You've seen me mad plenty of times. And I was mad like ten minutes ago! He was there.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“I didn’t yell,” he replies. “I never do. I had a professor in undergrad who told us that raising your voice gives people a reason to think you’re wrong.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Johanssen asks. 

“Ridiculously handsome,” he replies with a grin. 

She laughs, floating through the exit and back into the corridor. She reaches for his hand and pulls him along with her, squeezing his hand gently before letting go and pushing off one of the grab handles. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

 


	14. Please Don't Go

 

The first night back on the Hermes after the mission evacuation is far too quiet. Everyone wordlessly retreats to their bunks once their basic duties have been completed and stays there until the morning. 

Johanssen has been in her bed for four hours, and she hasn’t closed her eyes once. This is new for her- not being able to sleep the second her head hits the pillow. She thinks back to her first few nights on the Hermes, and how restless they were. Once she patched things up with Beck and got used to the constant spinning of the Hermes, she was able to sleep no problem. But there’s nothing to fix this, she realizes. Mark is dead, his body is on Mars, and there’s nothing that she can do about it. She inhales deeply, wondering if she’ll ever sleep again.

Two hours before the Hermes wake-up call, she finally tries to close her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she tries to relax and think of normal things, Earth things. As much as she tries, she can’t think of anything except Mark’s scream as his body was pulled into the clouds of sand. She hears it clearly, as if he’s beside her now, screaming that same terrible, terrible scream. She quickly sits up, tears clouding her vision. She takes a couple of deep breaths, counting to ten in her head like she always did when she was younger and she felt overwhelmed. She stays like that for a while, breathing and counting and trying to steady her shaking hands. 

Nearly a half hour passes before she gets up. She changes her clothes and grabs her tablet before heading off to the kitchen to down as much coffee as she can before everyone else wakes up.

The next night is the same as the one before, although after a couple of hours, she manages to get a little less than twenty minutes of restless sleep before that scream shows up in her mind and she shoots up in bed, awake and anxious and longing for someone to shake her and tell her these past few days have all been a dream. 

She doubles up on the coffee again, throwing herself into her work in attempts to keep her mind away from the horrible images it likes to replay so much. 

So it goes for the next few days-- silent, work-laden days spent chugging coffee and ignoring her crewmates as much as possible turn into nights spent lying awake for hours and hours. That is, until the sleep she’s finally and miraculously able to get is plagued with horrifying images after only a few minutes. 

On the sixth day, Lewis catches her in the kitchen an hour and a half before wake-up. “How are you doing, Beth?” she asks. It’s one of only a few times since the mission began that Lewis has called her by her first name. 

She shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Alright, I guess. Still trying to get my head around everything.”

Lewis nods. “I think we all still are. You sleeping okay? I’m surprised to see you up so early.”

Johanssen shrugs again, not really sure what to say and how to say it.

“Go see Beck first thing after wake-up call. He can give you something,” Lewis says. “And if you ever want to talk, I’m here. As is Dr. Beck. Don’t forget that.”

Houston had required each of them to speak with Beck the first day after they left Mars, since he had been trained in basic psychological evaluations in the event of a crisis. When it was Johanssen’s turn, she swore she was fine and then sat in silence for the entire hour. He begged her to talk, but she could barely look at him, let alone say anything. 

She nods, thanking Lewis before retreating to her station in the cockpit to get a jump on the day’s work. An hour later, the wake-up call sounds throughout the Hermes. Not long after, Beck appears in the cockpit. He floats over to Johanssen’s seat and places a hand on her arm gently.

“I’m worried about you,” he says. 

"I'm fine," she says. 

He sighs. “You sure? You've been really quiet lately, you’ve been the first one up every day, and you’ve been having two additional cups of coffee each morning, according to your nutrition logs.”

“I’m fine,” she insists. 

“I wish you would talk to me.” 

“And tell you what?” she all but snaps. “I have nothing to say.”

He sighs, giving in. He floats out of the cockpit, leaving her alone. 

A while later, Lewis shows up in the lab looking for him. “Have you talked to Johanssen lately?” she asks.

“I’ve tried,” he replies. “Something’s off, though. I need to check her biomonitor data to be sure, but I don’t think she’s been sleeping.”

“Not that any of us are in great shape these days,” Lewis begins, “but she’s looking a little worse for wear. I'm worried this is affecting her health.”

Beck nods. “Me, too. I tried to talk to her, but she insists she’s fine. I’m going to offer her a sleeping pill, though.”

“They’re helping me to sleep,” Vogel chimes in from his station at the microscope next to Beck’s. 

“I think that’s wise,” Lewis says, nodding. “I’m going to send her to the med bay in a while after the data dump comes through.”

Sure enough, Johanssen appears in the med bay a few hours later. “Lewis sent me in here,” she says. 

“What's going on?" he asks. 

"Nothing," she lies. "I'm fine."

"Beth," he says.

"What? I'm fine."

"You’re upping your caffeine intake, your biomonitor stats show no real change overnight, and your motor skills have slowed. Not to mention, your eyes look like they’re sinking into your skull,” Beck says. “You’re not sleeping,” he declares, standing up.

Johanssen sits on the exam table, pulling her knees to her chest and sighing. She considers lying, but decides against it. It’s Beck, after all. And if anyone here can see right through her, it’s him. “Not really, no.”

He nods and holds up a small baggy with a single small, orange pill in it. “This is temazepam. It’s a low dose, but enough to help you fall asleep and stay asleep.” 

“I don’t think it’ll help,” she admits, although she takes the baggy from him. 

“Why not?” 

She shrugs. “I dunno. Just not confident.”

“Listen,” he begins. His voice is softer, the professional edge suddenly gone. “Something horrible happened, and we’re all trying our best. We’re all grieving and trying to adjust to this new normal, while trying to convince ourselves we’re fine. All while going thousands and thousands of kilometers per hour, a dozen light-minutes from home. It’s taking a toll on all of us in different ways, both physically and emotionally. You’re not the only one who needs help. Don’t be afraid to ask for it.”

She nods, eyes suddenly full of tears. “I’m fine,” she insists, wiping at her eyes furiously before Beck notices. “I’m just tired.”

“You know you can talk to me, yeah?” 

She nods. “I know.”

“Not just as your doctor, y’know. I’m still me. And I’m still here for you, no matter what,” he says. “And I want to help you. Just don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. It’s okay.”

She nods again.

“Just give it a shot tonight,” he says, pointing to the pill beside her. “I’ll check up on you tomorrow, and I’ll keep an eye on your biomonitor stats. In the meantime, no more caffeine. Increase your water intake and skip your exercise for the day. Use that time to rest and hydrate, okay? I’ll let Lewis know.”

“Thanks,” she says quietly, hopping down from the exam table disappearing before he can say anything else.

An hour after lights out, she’s still wide awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to will herself to close her eyes. She looks over at the small orange pill, sitting in its clear bag on top of her closed laptop. Eight hours until wake up. She spends another hour staring at the same spot on the ceiling before finally admitting to herself that she won’t find sleep on her own any time soon.

She keeps the pill in her the palm of her hand for a few minutes, Beck’s words replaying in her mind.  _ You’re not the only one who needs help. It’s okay.  _ Seven hours and three minutes until wake up. She sighs, swallowing the pill and hoping he’s right, and she’s actually able to sleep.

She wakes up less than an hour later, Mark’s scream still ringing in her ears as she sits up and desperately tries to catch her breath. She’s crying, hot tears blurring her vision and rolling down her cheeks one after the other. She pulls her knees up to her chest, dropping her forehead and screwing her eyes shut as her body shakes with silent sobs. 

A quiet knock comes from the other side of the curtain separating her bunk from the corridor. She ignores it, biting her lip in an attempt to keep quiet. She hears the curtain sliding.

“Beth.”

She’d know that voice anywhere. “Chris,” she all but whispers, voice trembling. 

“The biomonitor showed your heart rate spiked up pretty high,” he explains when she looks up at him. She buries her face in her knees again. 

She feels the mattress shift as he sits beside her. “Take a deep breath,” he says, rubbing her back reassuringly.

She leans into his touch, taking a shaky breath. 

“Good,” he says. “Another.”

She does as he says, and after a couple more deep breaths, her silent sobs have turned into quiet hiccups and her tears are slowing down. “I’m sorry,” she says into her knees after a minute. "P-Please don't go. Not yet."

“Don’t be,” he says. “And I'm not going anywhere. Did you take the temazepam?”

She nods, looking up and wiping her eyes. “Told you it wouldn’t work.”

“Does this happen every night?” he asks. 

She nods again. “M’sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Don’t be,” he repeats. Then after a moment, “Do you want to talk?”

She chokes on an unexpected sob. “I mean… shit just went so wrong, so fast. It should’ve been me. I was right next to him, I was his partner on the walk to the MAV. It… it should’ve been me.” She’s crying again, voice watery as she adds, “I wish it was.”

Beck’s chest feels tight. He can’t find the words to tell her she’s speaking nonsense when in reality, he’s spent the last week wishing he was the one in Watney’s place, too. But hearing her say it aloud, about herself, it just makes him uneasy.

“And we go through all this training about what to do if we lose a crewmate and what we have to do to keep functioning. But I never really thought it would happen to us. And I never thought it would feel like this,” she says. 

“I know,” he says. “I… I feel so guilty all the time. Like we failed him.”

“Exactly.” They fall into a comfortable silence. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again,” she says after a few minutes. “I lie here for hours and hours and I just can’t close my eyes. When I’m finally able to, the nightmares come. They’re always a little different, but his scream… Mark’s scream... it's there every time.”

“C’mere,” he says, lying down and motioning for her to do the same. “There are studies that show that sleeping beside someone lowers levels of cortisol, a stress hormone. It can also increase oxytocin levels, which eases anxiety. Let’s see if you’re able to sleep now.”

She lays her head on his chest, exhaling slowly in an attempt to relax. “You’re one of the good ones, you know that?”

“Hmm, sounds familiar,” he replies with a small smile. “But if there’s one thing that’ll make me feel better, it’s having my ego stroked.”

“Tell me something good,” she says after a minute. 

“Something good?”

“Something good,” she says. “Anything.”

“The first word you ever said to me was ‘shit’ and I think about it all the time. How fitting it is.”

“It wasn’t!” She protests, despite it being completely believable. 

“It was,” he insists. “Early one morning in the break room a couple years ago. First time we met. You were bitching about the coffee.”

She can’t help but smile. “I remember now! And you lectured me on caffeine intoxication.” 

“Which is still very real,” he says. “And, by the way, it’s bad enough you’re logging four cups a day, but it’s worse that you’re sneaking one or two more and not logging them. I’m onto you.”

“I know you noticed. You notice everything.” 

“You better start cutting back before I start knocking it out of your hands,” he jokes. 

“Yeah, because that would go over well.”

He laughs, and she turns, burying her face in his sweater and inhaling the familiar scent. “Your turn,” he says. “Something good.”

She sighs, closing her eyes. “Remember when Mark tried to convince you that he and I were sleeping together?” 

He nods, smiling fondly. “How could I forget?”

“Well I couldn’t  _ not  _ retaliate. So I programmed his earpiece to emit high pitched beeps on and off all night,” she confesses.

“You didn’t,” Beck says through a small grin. 

She nods. “Yup, I did. He found me and asked me to fix it, too. I pretended to play around with it and just told him nothing was wrong and he was just hearing things. And then I made it keep beeping for another night.”

_ God, I love you, _ he almost says. 

He stops himself just in time. 

“You think this’ll add fuel to the fire?” he asks instead. 

“Hmm?” she replies. He looks down and smiles to himself when he sees that her eyes are closed. 

“Lewis cornered me before the mission,” he says. “Told me that you’re blue and I’m red, and there’s no purple allowed on Ares III at any point.” 

“Really? I overheard Martinez make a really lame joke about you and me in the million-mile high club a few months back,” she replies sleepily. “And I told him exactly where he could shove that joke.”

“Atta girl,” Beck replies. “I’ll sneak out before wake-up call. Just in case.”

“Thanks for this,” she says, voice thick with sleep. "And for everything."

“Sleep,” he says, wrapping his arm around her.

And she does. 


	15. Temporary Fix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi so a couple quick notes: I couldn’t remember all the exact details regarding the contingency plan other than the basics, and I’m a little fuzzy on the exact timeline of when the crew finds out certain things, when they start talking to Mark, etc. Sooooo, some things I have in this chapter are very likely canonically incorrect (the movie doesn’t help too much, and I’ve loaned out my book so that’s been my only frame of reference for the past few chapters) so forgive me! Also, Zoledronate is a drug to prevent the loss of bone mass-- I've used my artistic license to decide that the crew gets it through an IV every once in awhile. 
> 
> *sings* creative libertiessssssss

 

The video message ends and Beck is frozen to the spot as Mitch’s face fades away. Looking around at the stunned faces of his crewmates, he can’t think of anything to say except, “Holy shit, he’s alive.”

“I left him behind,” Lewis says quietly.

Johanssen shakes her head. “No.”

“No. We all left together,” Beck insists.

“You were following orders,” Lewis says. “I left him behind.” She’s gone before anyone else can think of something to say.

Johanssen turns from her spot at the computer to look at the others. “Let’s all give her some time alone. I’m going to send a message home asking for that write up immediately, and I’ll see what else they can give us.”

She switches on her comm before adding, “Commander, I’m going to finish the data dump and then request that write up from Houston. Looking for your permission.”

“Yes,” Lewis replies almost instantly. “As soon as they can.”

“Roger.”

“Everyone, finish up anything time-sensitive and then you’re all dismissed from your duties until tomorrow. Take the day to try to wrap your heads around things.”

“And I’ll be in the med bay,” Beck says. “Come in whenever. I’m sure NASA will send me a list of shit to ask you guys at some point, but for now if you just want to talk you know where to find me.”

He skips dinner in favor of having a few minutes to himself. Not that he has much of an appetite anyway. Everyone has come and gone from the med bay, finally allowing him time to think for himself. He can’t wrap his head around things- can’t figure out where they went wrong and how this happened. So he does the only thing he knows how to do. He looks for the scientific explanation.

He runs calculations and scribbles down notes for several hours until Johanssen pokes her head in and pulls him away from his thoughts. “Lights out was 40 minutes ago,” she says. “You coming?”

After that first night with Beck beside her, she slept four hours straight through. A miracle, she had declared it. Each night, she slept a little longer until she was sleeping straight through from lights out to wake up. Beck would slip into her bunk a little while after lights out, and return to his own bunk before wake up. But they never talked about it during the day- it was just something they did.

He looks up at her, eyes filled with tears. “I… I told Lewis he was dead.”

Johanssen’s face falls. “What? No, Chris. You can’t blame yourself, his-”

“His biomonitor went offline, I know. But I shouldn’t have assumed. I should have stayed back, I should’ve looked for him.”

“You were following orders!” she insists. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Beck just shrugs, closing his laptop and stacking up his papers. She crosses the room and sits on his lap, slipping underneath his arm and wrapping her arms around his torso. His arms encircle her automatically, pulling her closer as she rests her head on his chest. “Somehow, this is worse than when we thought he was dead,” he says after a minute.

“This is bigger than us,” she says quietly, looking up at him. “When shit goes wrong and things get hard, you have to remember that. This horrible crap we go through isn’t in vain. It’s because we’re a part of something that’s bigger than us.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying his hardest to keep the tears he can feel behind his eyes from spilling over. “You’re right,” he says, trying to steady his voice.

“Mark was the one who first told me that,” she smiles sadly. “I’m sure he’d get a kick out of me telling you now.”

She reaches up to wipe away the single tear rolling down his cheek. “Do you want to be alone?” she asks. “It’s okay if you-”

“No,” he says without hesitation, opening his eyes. “That’s the last thing I want right now.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

He nods, resting his chin on her head and inhaling deeply.

 

She eventually gets him into bed, although she’s doubtful he’ll sleep much. Eventually, he breaks the comfortable silence they’ve settled into. “He’s not gonna make it,” he says quietly, staring up at the ceiling.

“Hmm?”

“I ran all the numbers. Four times over. And he’s not gonna make it long enough for anyone to do anything to save him.”

“Chris,” she begins, sitting up and reaching for his hands instinctively.

“At best, he’ll make to around Sol 300,” Beck says.

“Don’t do this to yourself.”

“He has food for 300 sols, and that’s if he rations. But what if something happens to the water reclaimer? The oxygenator? What if the Hab breaches? Even if everything is perfect, if somehow everything manages to go off without a hitch, he’s still only gonna make it 300 Sols.”

“You’re forgetting how smart he is,” Johanssen says. “He’s figured out how to stay alive for this long and he’s in contact with NASA. Together, they’re gonna figure something out.”

He shakes his head. “I should’ve made sure. I- I shouldn’t have just assumed. And what does that say about me? I don’t deserve to be here.”  

“Listen to me,” she says, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. “You are the best doctor I’ve ever met. You’re smart, and level-headed, and you care so much about all of us, all the time. Even when when we’re obnoxious smartasses who love to make you the butt of our jokes, and especially we’re all being annoying, whiny, petulant little children when you have to take blood samples.”

He doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath.

“Chris, listen to me. You don’t always have to be taking care of everyone else. Let me take care of you for once. Remember what you told me? It’s okay to ask for help,” she says. "Besides, Watney would kick your assif he found out how little credit you're giving him."

He smiles, thinking that in this moment, he’s never loved her more. And somehow, at the same time, he knows with absolute certainty that she’ll do something tomorrow that’ll make him think the exact same thing all over again.

He’s in so, so deep.

-

The next day’s data dump includes NASA’s write up of everything Watney-related. Beck comes dangerously close to crying happy tears when they read that Mark has plenty of food and a steady communication with Houston. Maybe he’s not so fucked, after all.

That night, he sits up in Johanssen’s bed, waiting for her to finish whatever work she’s doing beside him. He puts down the copy of his latest report he was proofreading, and glances over at her. Her face is illuminated by the light of her tablet screen, her lips pursed in determination. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with affection, his chest tightening as he realizes he’s totally in love with her, and there’s no going back.

“Put it away,” he practically whines. “Being on that thing so close to sleeping is so, so bad for your body. The light from your screen actually suppresses melatonin levels. You’ll have shorter REM cycles and that essentially means-”

“Oh my god, relax,” she shoves him playfully. “I’m almost done, _doctor_.”

“You know, many studies have suggested that after your final exposure to a screen, you need to stimulate your brain before sleeping, so-”

“Okay, okay, I’m finished!” She huffs, putting the tablet down on the side table and laying down beside him. “And I’m not gonna, like, start reading a book now, so my brain will just have to deal with it.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, pulling her close. Before she can stop herself, she tilts her face up and kisses him. Her lips are soft and hesitant against his, and it’s over far too soon, he thinks, as she pulls away and covers her mouth apologetically. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I- I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now. Shit. I know I- I totally just crossed a line and it was _so_ unprofessional, and I know how you feel about-”

He interrupts her mid sentence, kissing her back eagerly. She smiles into the kiss as she rolls on top of him and snakes a hand around his neck, closing what little distance was left between them. He leaves a trail of kisses down her neck and she has to bite back a moan when he runs his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot. She laces her fingers through his hair, guiding their mouths back together.

He runs his hands down her sides, grabbing her waist and flipping them over effortlessly. She reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head quickly and tossing it carelessly across the small room.

Her fingers are lingering right above the waistband of his NASA-issued sweats when the logo catches her eye and she freezes. “Chris,” she breathes as their eyes lock.

“We can’t,” he finally whispers, warm breath ghosting across her lips.

“I know,” she says with a sigh, closing her eyes. He rolls onto his side, looking over at her intently.  

“What?” She asks. If it were anyone else looking at her like that, she’d be self-conscious. But it’s Beck after all, and somehow, she’s never felt safer.

“Nothing,” he says, the faintest of smiles ghosting across his lips. “I just figured out the DNA sequence I was stuck on for that genome mapping I was doing yesterday. I guess you’re my lucky charm.”

“Just now?”

“Just now,” he nods, tapping his watch to bring it to life. “I gotta go to the lab.”

“No, Chris. Don’t,” she practically pleads, placing her hand over his wrist and covering the now-glowing screen of his watch. “Record it now, and go to the lab when we get up tomorrow. It’s already late and I’m super comfortable. You can’t leave.”

“But what if I forget it by tomorrow?” He all but whines.

“You’re going to record it,” she repeats, reaching over him to grab her tablet from where she had set it down a few minutes ago. “And if somehow you forget AND the recording vanishes, I’ll still be here to inspire you.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asks, voice low. He leans over and kisses her, long and slow.

“Yeah,” she says with a smile. “So maybe you don’t record it.”

“In the name of science and the billions of dollars that America has invested in my presence on this ship, I should record it just in case,” he replies. “But I’m always looking for inspiration.”

“Oh, yeah?” She asks, dropping her voice as he did his.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning down to meet her for a kiss. At the last second, he pulls back and grabs the tablet from her.

“You’re the worst,” she pouts.

“You’re surprised by this?”

She shoves him playfully, watching him with a tiny smile as he records a long-winded explanation about a bunch of things she doesn’t understand.

“Do you need to stimulate your brain now, after using my 21st century death machine?” She teases when he finally puts the tablet away and settles down beside her.

“I hate you.”

“Mmm, do you really?” she smiles, settling in beside him. “You’re not gonna tell anyone about this, are you?” she adds after a minute.

“And let them find out we made purple?” he teases. “Hell, no.”

She presses a quick kiss to his cheek before draping an arm over his torso and snuggling in close to him. “Purple’s not the worst color, y’know,” she whispers as he uses his free hand to pull his blanket over them.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “G’night,” he whispers.

-

Time goes by, and the crew begins to heal in their own ways. Martinez talks to Watney as much as he can, and Lewis busies herself with writing report upon report and pestering Houston for updates. Vogel throws himself in his work, trying to catch up on everything before they return home. Beck and Johanssen continue to spend every night together, and Beck pretends it’s still for Johanssen’s benefit, although somewhere along the line, he lost his ability to sleep without her beside him.

-

The morning after the course details for the Rich Purnell maneuver arrives in Vogel’s email, everyone’s in great spirits, still high off their decision to return for Watney.  

“You seen Johanssen?” Beck pokes his head into the cockpit, where Vogel is sitting at his station. “She was supposed to come in for her zoledronate a little while ago. I haven’t seen her.”

“With the commander, I believe.”

Beck nods. “Thanks.”

He runs into her as she’s leaving the small room where Lewis works. “Hey, I was looking for you! You’re due for a dose of zoledronate.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, barely picking up her head as she tries to hurry past him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, barely stopping. “Yeah. L-Lewis wanted me to send you in, though. I’ll come get my IV in a little while.”

“You sure you’re fine?” he presses, noticing the way her voice wavers and her chest is rising and falling heavily.

“Yeah,” she says, dropping her gaze and hurrying off.

He sighs, trying to think what could be going on. He shakes the thought from his head, making a mental note to check on her once he finishes with Lewis.

“Commander?” He calls, knocking gently.

“Come on in, Beck.”

“You wanted to see me?”

She nods, turning in her seat to face him. “Take a seat.”

He sits, suddenly nervous. “Everything alright?”

“Well,” she begins. “If something goes wrong and we don’t get the resupply probe, we need to have a plan in place.”

“Of course,” he nods. “I mean, I don’t think any of us have thought too deeply about that yet. But did NASA send something along?”

Lewis looks uncomfortable. She shifts in her seat, looking up to the ceiling as she tries to come up with the right words. “Not yet, they haven’t. But we need to be ready, just in case. In the event the resupply fails, all five of us aboard the Hermes won’t survive. We would starve.”

He nods.

“I’m looking for your professional opinion here. Based on the health profiles of our crew and what you know as our physician, who would be the ideal sole survivor, should only one of us be able to survive with the supplies already on board?”

He exhales slowly, unsure where this is going. “Johanssen,” he says. “She’s the youngest, the smallest, and she’s extremely healthy. She has the best chances out of everyone here of surviving the longest on the least amount of food.”

Lewis nods. “Good. I spent all of last night looking over the health records and hypothetical plans for unrelated mission issues, and that was my decision as well.” She passes Beck her tablet. “This is the contingency plan I’ve come up with. NASA doesn’t know about this, and I don’t think we should make them aware unless it becomes absolutely necessary. I just ran it by Johanssen. I just want to give you a heads up before bringing it to the rest of the crew, as they may have medical-related questions that you’re better suited to answer.”

He nods, trying to let everything soak in. He runs a couple of calculations in his head before looking up at Lewis, confused. “But wait. Even with rations, she won’t make-”

His voice trails off as Lewis nods in understanding. She points to the tablet in his hands. “Give it a read.”


	16. Please Don't Say You Love Me

As soon as he finishes with Lewis, Beck immediately sets off to find Johanssen, with a lump in his throat and a sick feeling in his stomach. He tries her comm, but it’s turned off. Her bunk is empty, and so is her favorite hiding spot in the small closet that houses their extra supplies. He tries her comm again, but it’s still off. He finally finds her sitting alone in the gym, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her back is to him as she stares out the huge windows. “Hey,” he says quietly, coming up behind her. He places a hand on her back gently, dropping down to her level. “You shouldn’t look outside for too long. You’ll get sick.”

She turns to face him silently, eyes red. “She told you?” she asks quietly.

He nods, sitting down properly next to her. “Listen,” he says, taking a shaky breath. “I know I shouldn’t have waited this long to tell you. But whatever happens, just know-”

She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Please don’t say you love me,” she says through her tears. “Please.” 

He smiles sadly, reaching out and brushing a tear off her cheek. “Not right now,” she says, leaning into his touch. "Not when I can’t say it back.”

He nods in understanding, pulling her in close and pressing a kiss to her the top of her head. “You turned your comm off,” he says eventually.

“Didn’t want to be found,” she says quietly. 

“Lewis will be upset,” he reminds her. “You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

“I don’t care,” she says, although they both know it’s not the truth.

“It’s not her fault,” he says. “And it’s not your fault, either.”

She looks up at him, eyes shining with tears. “I was in front of him in line. I stepped to the side to try to see the MAV, even though Lewis told us to walk in a straight line. If-” she pauses, sniffling. “If I had just followed instructions and stayed in line, that antenna would have gotten me instead.”

“Beth-”

“It should’ve been me, Chris,” she says quietly, dropping her head. “It’s my fault. And if he dies, or if you all die because of my stupid mistake, I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself long enough to get to the point where I have to-”

“Hey,” he says evenly, cutting her off. “Take a deep breath and look at me.”

He places a finger under her chin, lifting it gently. She looks up at him reluctantly, lip trembling. 

“None of this is your fault. Okay?” 

“Easy for you to say,” she replies. “You-”

“I told Lewis he was dead,” he says. “I’m the doctor, and I told her that he was dead. She made the call to leave based on my assessment.”

“But you couldn’t have known!” she protests. “You can’t blame yourself. We all would have done the same thing.”

“But you didn’t- I did. And remember what you told me?”

She smiles sadly, looking down at her shoes. “This is bigger than us.”

“This is bigger than us,” he repeats. 

“I would hear Mark say it all the time during training when we had to do especially shitty things,” she sniffles. “When they took us up in the vomit comet for the first time as a group, remember how he and Vogel almost puked?”

He nods, smiling at the memory.

“This is bigger than us,” she says, mocking the serious tone they heard Watney use only a couple of times. “We’re going to puke for science, and for the rest of mankind, and for our children’s children who will one day live in a smarter world because of our vomit in this moment.” She lets out a laugh, tears returning to her eyes. “I fucking miss him,” she adds quietly.

“We’re gonna get him,” Beck promises, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She turns into him, burying her face in his neck. “And lucky for you, I am really good at catching things.”

“No,” she says suddenly, looking up at him. “You can’t do the EVA. You’re… no. It’s too risky. we’re going to be accelerating, and the probe is huge, I mean if something-”

“Deep breaths,” he reminds her. “I’m doing the EVA. And I’m going to be absolutely fine. Remember what we say?”

“This is bigger than us,” she says with a sigh, closing her eyes and leaning against him. 

He nods, absentmindedly rubbing small circles onto the skin of her knuckles with his thumb. 

“My parents are gonna be so pissed when they find out what we’re doing,” she whispers. “Going back for him, I mean.”

“I know,” Beck thinks back to the night she told her parents she was selected for the mission, and how they both cried. She showed up for movie night in a foul mood, and it was only after nearly a half hour of insisting nothing was wrong that she finally told him what had happened. “And I remember the night you first told them about Ares, and how upset you were because of it.”

“Y’know,” she sniffles. “There’s one thing I didn’t tell you about that night.”

“What’s that?”

“After they cried about me being gone for so long, my mom got really, really quiet. She looked over at my dad and asked him if they would still be parents if I died,” she says. “And, uh, I almost withdrew from the crew because of it. It just… I don’t know. I guess it just fucked me up in the head a little bit. I felt completely responsible for someone else’s happiness and well-being for the first time in my life, and it just stuck with me. I felt like if I went, they wouldn’t love me anymore.”

“Beth,” he begins, shaking his head.    
  
“I know!” she insists. “I know it’s stupid. They’re my parents, of course they’ll always love me and of course they’re going to be upset that I’m doing something as big and scary as this. I mean, you and I, we’re scientists in our own rights. We think technically and logistically. My parents just don’t see things the same way. I can’t fault them for that, no matter how much I might want to.”

“You don’t have to see things the same,” he says. “They’re your parents, and you love them, and they’ll always be a part of who you are. But you’re your own person, and that’s okay. You’re brilliant,” he says. “And beautiful, and dedicated, and strong. And you’re totally fucking badass, not to mention aces at Mario Kart.”

She laughs, wiping at her eyes. 

“And you believe in yourself and in this program, and you’re here for all the right reasons,” he continues. “Just don’t lose sight of that. And don’t let anyone else’s feelings change who you are. And sure, they’re gonna have a hard time with this news. I mean, three years away from you? Shit, Beth… I can’t imagine three days without you, let alone three years.”

She squeezes his hand, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re too good for me,” she says.

“Nonsense,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s totally the other way around.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” she smiles, closing her eyes. “You’re right, I’ve been looking out that window for like a half hour and now I want to puke,” she adds after a minute. 

“C’mon,” he says, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

-

The following day, there’s a full write-up of the contingency plan that comes in with the day’s data dump. Johanssen sees it after she’s dispatched everyone’s personals and sent a couple of telemetry updates Vogel’s way. 

She dispatches it to everyone’s computers and sends a copy to the main computer system as well, just in case. She’s tempted to read it right then, but she decides the computer in the rec might not be the best place for it. Grabbing her tablet, she heads off to her bunk. 

She takes an unsteady breath and opens the document. Seeing it all in writing is too much. She’s overcome with the urge to vomit, and barely makes it to one of the special NASA-designed bags in time. Hot tears sting her eyes as she seals the bag and sneaks into the corridor to toss it down the trash chute without being caught.

“Beth?” she looks up and sees Beck standing outside the med bay, eyes wide with concern. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m fine. It was just-”

“Come in here, I need to run some tests.” His lips are pressed into a straight line, a telltale sign he’s activating doctor mode. Though she doesn’t miss the concern written across his face, or the way his voice has softened.

“No, I’m fine,” she insists. “I promise. It was just the whole contingency thing. Seeing it in writing just put me over the edge, but I’m fine. I swear, I-”

“C’mon,” he says with a small smile, stepping aside so she can enter. “Rules are rules. And I’d feel a lot better having empirical evidence that you’re alright.”

“But-”

“Now, Johanssen,” he says, and it serves as her confirmation that doctor mode has been fully activated- she knows there’s no arguing with him now.

Groaning, she sits quietly on the exam table. She pouts as he runs through a million tests, glaring at him whenever he meets her eyes.

“Okay,” he finally says, looking down at his tablet. “Good news is there's nothing alarming going on. Although your temperature is 99.2, which is a little high. Coupled with the vomiting, you’re going to have a 24-hour quarantine. Unless of course you’re sick again or you start running a more serious fever.”

“24-hours?!” she protests. “Chris, no! Please don’t make me. It was extenuating circumstances. I’m not actually sick.”   


“It’s not my rule,” he replies. “Although I do think it will do you some good to just rest and relax. And even if you choose not to-- which, knowing you, I have a good feeling will be the case-- you can still work from your tablet or your laptop.”

She lets out a long, drawn out sigh. 

“That’s not gonna help your case,” he says, tapping away at his tablet. “Go to my bunk and close the curtain. Sip some water if you can stomach it- at least 250mL in the next two hours. And I’ll check on you every hour. If anything changes, you need to call me right away.”

She looks up at him, pouting. “You’re the worst,” she says, reaching out for his hand and pulling him close.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he says, smiling as he kisses the top of her head. “Go to bed.”

“You can’t tell me I’m in quarantine and then kiss me! That’s so hypocritical!”

“You liked it,” he replies.

“So?”

He grins. “Goodbye, Beth.”

She jumps down from the exam table, flipping him off as she leaves. 

-

As promised, he checks on her after an hour. “Feeling okay?” He asks, walking into his bunk, which serves as the sick bunk if someone needs to be quarantined.

She nods. “Yes, because I’m not sick.”

He rolls his eyes and takes her temperature while she continues to glare at him. “Alright, temp is back to normal,” he says. 

“Because I’m not sick,” she insists. 

“At least pretend to take me seriously,” he says with a smile before walking out.

He comes back every hour and checks on her, until he’s finished with his duties for the day. 

“Hey,” he says as he walks in. “Doing okay?”

He passes her a water bottle and a meal bar.

“I’m bored,” she whines, taking the water bottle but shaking her head when he tries to pass her the meal bar. 

“Too bad. And you need to try to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re not building a very good case for yourself,” he points out, leaving the bar next to his bed. 

“Chris,” she draws out his name, exasperated. 

“Unless it’s related to your health, save your breath.”

She flips him off again as he leaves.    
  


“You know Watney calls you Dr. Bossy-Beck?” she says a few hours later when he comes in again.

“Oh, does he?”

She nods, grinning. “It’s kind of catchy. I think I like it.”

“No complaints here,” he replies, shooting her a look when he sees her water bottle is still full. “You know how I appreciate good alliteration.”

She groans, throwing her head back. “You’re infuriating. Just get out.”   
  


He brings her dinner once his duties for the day are finished. He’s happy to see she’s asleep when he comes in. He thinks about checking her temperature and vitals again, but decides to just let her sleep. 

He leaves the tray of food on the bedside table and sneaks out to the lab to get in some more work before lights out. He takes a break after an hour to check in on her again. She stirs as he walks in, the light from the corridor flooding the room as he pulls back the curtain. 

 

“Dr. Bossy-Beck, back so soon?” she greets him. He begins running through his list of tests.

“Here I am,” he says. “I’m happy to see you got some sleep, though.”

“Mm,” she nods. “I need to catch up on work now.”

He grabs her tablet off the ground and passes it to her. “Everything still looks good here. I’ll be in the lab if you need me. Don’t leave, but you can get me over the comm.”

Half an hour passes before her voice comes over his comm. “As much as I hate to admit this,” she begins, voice quiet. “I think I need your help.”

He almost drops one of the lab mice in his rush to stand up and peel off his gloves. “I’m coming. You okay?” he asks, miraculously managing to get the mice cage closed up before hurrying to his bunk. 

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed when he comes in, pouting. She holds up a NASA barf bag wordlessly. 

He sighs, taking the bag from her and bringing it to the trash chute. “What happened?” He asks when he comes back. 

“I finished reading the contingency plan,” she says. “And NASA sent up a request for quotes for a statement they’re releasing this week. And I scheduled my video conference home for tomorrow, and I was thinking about everything and what might happen and what all this means, and how potentially we could only have another couple weeks up here as a team. And all of a sudden I felt sick.”

He nods, grabbing his med bag from its shelf near the door. He checks a couple of things before looking up at her. “Your heart is beating a little too fast for my liking, and you’re sweating. It doesn’t seem like there’s an actual virus or bacteria here making you sick. My most educated guess is that everything happening right now has led to some serious anxiety.”

“I just feel… I don’t know. Almost like I’m suffocating, I guess. Like, no matter how many times I tell myself I’m going to be okay and things are going to work out, I still feel like I’m on the brink of panicking,” she admits. 

“Okay. Well, don’t worry. We’ll get you back on track,” he nods, squeezing her hand gently. “I have good news and bad news. What do you want first?”

“Bad,” she says. “Always bad first.”

“Bad news it is, then,” he replies. “I’m going to bring in an IV and drip bag. You haven’t kept anything down all day, and you’re starting to show signs of dehydration.”

She groans. 

“But the good news is that you can stay here overnight instead of in the med bay. And also, since I’m ruling out bacteria-based illness as the cause of your vomiting, you don’t have to start another 24-hour quarantine. You do, however, have to finish out the initial one, because of your temperature earlier.”

“Ha,” she says triumphantly. “I  _ told _ you I wasn’t sick.”

“This is still serious,” he says gently. “You’re anxious to the point of being physically sick. Let’s talk about what we can do to help you.”

“I think it’s just that this day is just overwhelming,” she says. “I mean, already feel better. I think I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“I’m going to stay here for a little while,” he says, putting his med bag away and returning to his seat next to the bed. “And in the morning, we’ll talk and see how you’re doing and go from there. But this is potentially serious, and we're going to treat it as such, no matter how much you try to downplay it, okay?"

"Okay," she nods. "Yeah, okay."

"If you honestly feel anxious, I want you to tell me so we can figure out what we can do to help you. Either way, I’m going to set up a call with the NASA psychiatrists for tomorrow morning, so you have someone to talk to who’s a little more qualified than I am.”

“Does NASA know?” she asks. 

“Lewis is talking to the others now. Once she gets their approval, she’s sending it along to NASA. So by tomorrow, they’ll know.”

She nods. “Thank you.”

They sit together for a while, talking and eventually playing cards for a couple hours before Johanssen starts yawning and Beck puts the cards away. “You need to sleep,” he says. 

“I haven’t slept alone in a while,” she says.

He sighs. He wants nothing more than to slide under the covers beside her and just hold her, especially when she's feeling so poorly. But quarantine is quarantine, and if anyone finds out he slept beside her when she was officially quarantined, he’d be in  _ a lot _ of trouble. He pulls off his sweater and passes it to her. "Here, take this."

She pulls it to her face and inhales deeply. “Smells like you,” she smiles. 

“It’s the best I can do,” he says, reaching for her hand. “I’ll be back to check on you first thing in the morning.”

“G’night,” she says, squeezing his hand before clutching his sweater to her chest and closing her eyes. 


	17. Something Great

An eerie silence comes over the Hermes on the morning of the resupply probe launch. The usual sounds of the ship are non-existent. No one’s cracking jokes, making small talk, asking questions about stats and updates, video-chatting their families back home, or collaborating on work assignments. It reminds Beth too much of the first few weeks after they left Mars. The minute she wakes up from her unsurprisingly restless sleep, she can feel the silence of the ship in her bones, and it makes her heart race a little bit. The cold mattress beside her doesn’t help, either.

She inhales a deep, shaky breath before putting her bare feet on the floor and all but forcing herself to stand up and start her day. She stumbles to the Rec for a cup of coffee and then to the cockpit to get the first of the day’s readings. She nods hello to Vogel and Martinez, who are floating into the cockpit at the same time as she is. Martinez offers a small reassuring smile, which she appreciates. But it doesn’t do much to calm the ball of nerves that’s made its home in her stomach. She puts her head down and works quietly until Lewis calls them for the midday brief, too nervous to do much of anything else.

“The probe is launching in 47 minutes,” Lewis says once they’re all sitting in the Rec together. “Beck, I want you suited up and ready to go. Vogel, suit up as well and be ready to go at a minute’s notice in case we need a rescue.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“Martinez and Johanssen, you’re up front with me. Johanssen, you’re going to be the primary in communication with Hou- I mean, Jiuquan. I’ll tag you out once docking is complete.”

“Got it.”

“If anything happens?” Martinez asks.

Lewis speaks up after a short pause. “We reconvene here. But we’ll cross that bridge if and when we get to it.”

They all nod. Johanssen swallows around the lump in her throat, looking up and meeting Beck’s eyes. He nods at her reassuringly from across the table. She looks away quickly before she does something stupid, like starts crying.

“Let’s get to it, then,” Lewis says.

Several minutes later, Beck is staring out over planet Earth, ready to go. His magnetic boots are doing wonders to stop the shakiness of his legs when he thinks about how the next hour is literally life or death. He’s waiting for confirmation of the probe launch, trying to remind himself to trust the greatest scientists on the planet (he’s up here, after all).

He checks the time on the sleeve of his EVA suit and takes a deep breath. Launch is twelve minutes away. From there, there’s only a few minutes until he’ll be able to see the probe. He looks out at the Hermes, and allows himself to wonder if Beth is doing alright. Just then, the rotation of the ship brings her into view, on her way to grab her flight suit. She pauses at the large window and looks out at him.

She’s nervous. Even from this far away, he can see it written all over her face. She presses her hands to the glass gently, absentmindedly chewing her bottom lip. He brings his gloved hand to his helmet and blows her a kiss without a second thought.

She smiles, nodding quickly before the rotation of the ship brings her out of view. His legs have stopped shaking, he realizes after a minute. He can do this.

A few minutes later, he hears her voice in his ear. “Jiuquan, this is Hermes Actual. Ready to go up here.”

“Roger that, Hermes,” Mitch Henderson is the one to reply. Hearing his familiar voice is oddly comforting. “Stand by.”

“How you doing out there, Beck?” Lewis asks.

“Great,” Beck replies. “Ready to catch stuff.”

He can hear the smile on Lewis’s face when she replies. “Glad to hear it. Hopefully, we’ll dock without issue. But I’m happy to know you’re ready for manual recovery if necessary. Vogel?”

“Ready, Commander.”

“Excellent. We’re just waiting for confirmation from Jiuquan. Time to launch T-2 minutes. Hang tight, boys.”

“Aye, Commander.”

A couple of minutes pass before Jiuquan confirms the launch. Another minute goes by before Chris catches his first glimpse of the probe, coming straight towards them.

“I have visual,” he reports.

Johanssen reads out some numbers, and he waits another minute. The probe is much closer now, only a couple hundred meters away.

“Looks good,” he calls out over the comm. “But are we sure Martinez is the one in control? Looks like it’s gonna be a perfect docking, which makes me think there's no way he's playing a part in it.”

“Suck it, Beck.”

“I’ll give you something to-”

“Apologies, Jiuquan,” Johanssen interrupts. “It seems two of our astronauts have forgotten their filters today.”

Beck feels a blush creep up his neck beneath his helmet. He totally forgot their comms get broadcasted during big things like this. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m a little too excited about this perfect docking.”

“Beck, stand clear,” her voice is in his ear once more. “Martinez, go for docking.”

“Roger.”

Johanssen inhales deeply, fighting the smile on her face as she speaks again. “Docking in three… two… one. Docking.” There’s a short pause, and she’s pretty sure they’re all holding their breath just as she is. There’s a soft jolt, a muffled noise, and then Beck’s voice.

“Docking success.”

Beth exhales, and it’s as if everything she’s been holding in since the first mention of the contingency plan disappears at once. She finally feels like she can breathe again. Hot, happy tears fill her eyes and she blinks them back furiously as she meets Martinez’s hand for a high-five.

She goes with Martinez to open the probe while Lewis goes to help Beck and Vogel de-suit.

Twenty minutes into the inventory, she realizes she’s in the best mood she’s been in since they left Mars. She and Martinez even spend a solid five minutes having a backflip contest in the microgravity, something they haven’t done in months. Things finally feel normal again. And not the normal she felt when they learned Watney was alive. The normalcy of their initial trip to Mars, when goofing around with each other was the norm, and there wasn’t a pang of guilt that came with every laugh.

“Crate AE326,” she calls out from where she’s floating inside the probe. She picks it up effortlessly (thank you, microgravity!) and floats over to the probe door to pass it out to Martinez.

She’s pleasantly surprised to see Beck in his place. He grins, opening the lid and checking over its contents before marking it complete on the wall-mounted computer. He passes it back to her and she returns it to its spot in the probe with a smile on her face. “So,” she begins, turning to grab another crate, but feels a pair of arms encircle her waist. She laughs, turning to face him.

He kisses her quickly, just in case Martinez comes back from talking to Lewis sooner than expected. “Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she says, looking up into the deep blue of his eyes. And then, before he can reply or she can stop herself,  “I love you, Chris.”

His eyes widen and a smile breaks out on his face. “You suck!” he shoves her playfully, then grabs her before she floats too far away. “You totally made me wait just so you could say it first.”

“Not true!” she protests. “You had like twenty seconds to say it before I did just now.”

“Mmhm,” he nods. “I see how it is. You’re lucky, though. I’m so totally in love with you, I’ll let it slide.”

She grins, grabbing at his shirt and pulling him close.

\--

The second Beck and Watney are both back aboard the Hermes and the airlock is closed, Johanssen, Martinez, and Lewis unbuckle themselves and race to the airlock. The three of them work to help Vogel, Beck and Watney de-suit. Johanssen goes straight for Beck, unlatching his helmet with a huge grin on her face. She places it on the wall and turns back towards him, ruffling his matted-down hair. “That’s a good look for you,” she murmurs.

“Oh, really?” he raises an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, shutting down his wrist panel. “Nope. You need a haircut, doctor.”

“Ugh, I know. Wanna cut it tonight?” He asks.

She looks at him like he’s crazy. “I had other plans in mind for what we’re doing tonight. Unless-”

“Nope,” he cuts her off instantly. “Got it. My hair can wait.”

She winks, floating around him to undo the latch in the back of his suit. When she floats back around to undo the front latch, he holds onto her waist gently to keep her in place.

“Hey, Beck! You’re getting a little handsy there, don’t you think?” Watney laughs.

“Oh boy,” Martinez says excitedly, eyes lighting up. “Ohhhhh boy. Can I tell him? Please, guys, let me be the one.”

Beck and Johanssen share a look before nodding. “Go ahead.”

“You owe me a pack of M&Ms,” is all Martinez says, a smug grin on his face.

“No way,” Watney’s eyes go wide. “No fucking way!”

Martinez nods.

“Is it true?” Watney all but shouts, turning to Beck and Johanssen, who are sharing an amused look. “Oh my god, it’s true! Pay up, Martinez.”

“No way! It happened after we left Mars.”

“Which was technically, in the scheme of things, on your way _back_ to Mars. Which still counts as on the way to Mars,” Mark points out. “Ergo, not on the trip home. Ergo, I win and you lose. _Ergo,_ you owe me that bag of peanut M&Ms. Pay up.”

Martinez opens his mouth to protest, but he can’t come up with anything to say. He just sighs, conceding. “I’ll get them later."

“Yes! Oh my god, I can’t believe I missed this.”

“Wait, did you _bet_ on us?” Beck demands.

“Not the point!” Watney protests. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. So are you two boning in space? Like, how does that work, with the gravity and all?”

“Watney,” Lewis warns, though she’s fighting a smile. “Relax. Don’t over-excite yourself. No one is _boning_ on my ship. Right?”

“Affirmative, Commander,” Beck replies. He glances over at Beth, who has her eyes cast on the floor, an embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

“So you guys share a bed, but you don’t bone?” Martinez asks.

“You share a bed?!” Watney demands. “Oh my god, you guys held out on me! All those times I asked how things were going, you couldn’t have filled me in on the crew drama? Martinez, what kind of best friend are you? And Vogel, I thought we were lab bros. This is a total violation of the bro code. And as for you, Beck, I always figured you would’ve been a bragger.”

“Aaand, that’s enough of this,” Beck says, returning his suit to its mount on the wall and turning to face Watney. “Martinez, help me bring him to the med bay.”

“You better give me the details while we’re in there,” Watney says.

“You’ll be in there for a few weeks. We’ll have plenty of time.”

“ _Weeks_?! Dammit, Beck, here I actually thought I missed you.” The smile on Mark’s face is a clear indicator that he’s just joking. But even if he wasn’t, Chris wouldn’t have minded. They got Watney back, Beth didn’t have to eat anyone, and he’s got another nine months to spend with the girl he loves.

This might just be the greatest day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter, you guys!! ahhhhhhhhhhhhh


	18. Bonfire Heart

“Extend your arm and make a fist,” Beck instructs. Watney does as he’s told. He’s been back on the Hermes for two months now, and he’s learned not to put up too much of a fight, no matter how bossy Beck is when he’s in doctor-mode. “I’ll be quick.”

Watney raises an eyebrow suggestively, earning himself an eye roll from Beck, who’s busy prepping for the blood draw. “Well-” Watney begins, but he’s interrupted by Martinez’s voice coming through their earpieces. 

“Looks like there’s something coming at us. Adjusting course now.”

“Are you needing my assistance?” Vogel replies. 

“What’s it looking like, Martinez?” Lewis asks. “I’m on my way.”

“Stay put. All of you. I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Martinez half says into his earpiece, half mumbles to himself. “Shit. Commander, we have a problem. There’s no time for an-”

“Brace for impact!” he calls quickly, followed by a huge jolt. Watney falls off the table, and Beck flies into the wall on the other side of the medical bay as the lights shut off.

Chris has his eyes closed for no more than a few seconds when the alarms start going off. “Fuck,” Watney groans, sitting up and rubbing his elbow. 

“You okay?” Beck asks. 

Watney gives himself a quick once-over before nodding. “Banged my elbow but I’m good.” 

“Report,” Lewis’s voice comes through their earpieces. 

“I’m fine, Commander. It was debris of some sort,” Martinez is the first one to speak. “I’ve still got power here in the cockpit, but the alarms are telling me that lighting panels six through nine are out. We need to convene immediately. If they’re out for longer than six minutes, a mayday signal will send to NASA.”

“Everyone to the Rec immediately,” Lewis instructs. “Are the rest of you alright?”

Watney speaks up next, saying something about Martinez intentionally steering into the debris just to keep everyone on their toes. By the time they reach the Rec, he’s still going. “I know you’re bored, Martinez, but come on.”

“That’s enough, boys,” Lewis says as Martinez tries to go back at him. “Vogel? Johanssen?” she asks. 

“On my way, Commander. I am alright,” Vogel says, sliding down the ladder a second later. Beck looks around and sees everyone but Johanssen. 

“Commander, we’re missing Johanssen,” he says, rising from his seat. “We still haven’t heard from her.”

“Johanssen, report,” Lewis says. Everyone falls silent, waiting for her response to come through their earpieces.

Lewis’s lips press into a straight line as she taps a code into her watch to grab Johanssen’s location. “I can’t get her location,” she says, looking down as she continues tapping in codes. “I can’t get anyone’s, actually.”

“Because of the outage,” Vogel explains. “Our comm still works because it’s powered by the fifth panel, which is still on. But the location signals are powered by panel six, I believe.”

Lewis nods, tapping in another code to link directly to Johanssen’s earpiece. “Johanssen,” she says quietly. “You alright? I need verbal confirmation.” The rest of them are looking up at Lewis expectantly, breath bated as they wait for an answer. She waits another moment before shaking her head. 

“Beck, with me. I’ll check the north end, you go south. Martinez, back to the cockpit. Send a message out to NASA. Be clear that the Hermes is fine, but don’t mention anything about the crew until we get to Johanssen. Go now, and try to beat the mayday signal. Vogel and Watney, check out those panels. If you can fix them, do it. Everyone stay on your comm. Keep me posted.”

Beck is gone before anyone has a chance to respond. He checks all the bunks, the bathroom, even the med bay- despite being in there himself only a few minutes ago, the airlock, and every corridor in between. It’s been a few minutes and he still hasn’t found her. He keys in her code on his watch and tries to grab her location, hopeful that maybe Watney and Vogel had figured out the panels by now. 

“Commander?” Johanssen’s voice sounds grainy and far away as it comes over the system. 

Everyone tries to speak at once, a chorus of voices coming over all of their comms at the same time. 

“Johanssen!”   
“Thank God.”  
“You alright?”  
“There she is!”

Beck freezes in place, grabbing onto a handle to stop from floating down the corridor. He waits, anxious for her response. 

She laughs. “I just took a spill off the treadmill, but I think I’m fine. I’m in the gym now, I’ll come up to meet you guys.”

“No,” Beck says quickly, before anyone else can speak. “Stay where you are.”

“Johanssen, stay put until Beck gets to you and gives the OK. Vogel, Watney, update me.” 

Beck tunes out whatever they’re saying about panels and electricity and location services. He rushes to the gym, stopping only to grab his med bag on the way. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he runs toward where she’s sitting beside the treadmill, hands pressed against her outstretched calf. “You okay?” He asks, kneeling down in front of her. 

“Yeah,” she nods. “I was running when we got hit and I fell back. I cut my leg up but that’s it.”

“Did you hit your head at any point?” He opens his bag and pulls out a couple instruments.

“Nope,” she says, following his finger as he shines a light in her eyes. “I caught myself on the way down, but the treadmill shredded part of my calf up, but nothing serious- it doesn’t even really hurt, just stings a little- And that’s when my comm came out of my ear. It’s a little busted- I’m actually more worried about that, since-”

“Let me see,” he cuts her off, gently pulling her hands away from her leg. 

“What’s the damage?” she asks. 

“Well, you’re going to need like, three stitches here,” he says, pointing to a deep cut. “The rest is just scrapes. I’ll just clean it and cover it, and it’ll be fine by tomorrow. But the stitches will have to stay in for a week, maybe more depending on how they heal.”

“And what about the gash in my head?” 

“What?” His eyes go wide as he drops the gauze pad he was holding. “You said you didn’t… you should have mentioned that first! Shit, Beth… d-don’t move. Let me see.” He places both hands on the sides of her head, holding it still as she starts laughing. “This isn’t funny, you could have serious-”

“I’m kidding!” She cuts him off, throwing back her head with laughter. “Oh my god, you should see your face.”

“Jesus, Beth. You’re gonna drive me to an early grave,” he says, shaking his head. 

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” he nods. “But more importantly, I am  _ so  _ in love with you. So you better not get hurt again, or I’m gonna be so mad.”

She flashes him a playful smile. “So mad?”

He shakes his head fondly before kissing her softly. “So mad.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to do my best,” she grins. 

“I guess so,” he says before tapping his earpiece. “Commander? She’s fine. Superficial leg injury, everything else looks good.”

“Copy that. You scared us, Johanssen.”

“Well, I gotta keep things interesting, y’know?” 

“Hey, that’s my job!” Watney chimes in. 

“Panels six through nine restoring in three… two… one,” Vogel says. Sure enough, the alarms stop and the lights buzz back on. A loud beep comes from everyone’s watches as they return to full capacity. 

“Great work,” Lewis says. “Martinez, how’d you do?”   


“Sent a message back to Houston. They should be receiving it within the next minute.”

“Beck, does she need treatment?” Lewis asks. 

“Just a couple of stitches on her calf,” he replies. “Should heal in about ten days.”

“Roger that. You bringing her to the med bay?” 

“Affirmative.”

“Million-mile high club: next stop, med bay,” Watney says. 

“If I knew you were gonna steal my jokes, I would’ve left you on Mars,” Martinez replies. 

“Permission to mute their comms, Commander?” Johanssen asks. 

“No! Commander, you can’t let her silence us,” Watney argues. “If anything, Martinez-”

“Granted,” Lewis says over the sound of Watney and Martinez bickering.

Beth taps something into her watch and their arguing ceases. She looks at Beck with a childish grin. “God, I love that,” she says. 

“C’mere, let me bandage this up to stop the bleeding until we get up to the med bay,” he replies.

“You’re always taking care of me,” she pouts. “I never used to get hurt this much before you came into my life. So really, I think you’re the one who’s driving  _ me  _ to an early grave. I can’t wait til we’re back on Earth and I never have to see you again.”

“Shut up and let me bandage this,” he smiles, although he feels a tightness in his chest at the words  _ back on Earth.  _

“So, you’re gonna run for the hills when we get back?” he asks once they’re in the med bay and he starts stitching her leg up. 

“Yup,” she jokes. “Not even gonna wait for the rescue team to come get us with the boats when we land. I’m gonna ditch you losers and swim to shore.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he nods. 

“In all seriousness,” she says, beating him to it. “Um, what’s going to happen to us?”

He pauses, looking up at her. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, finishing up the last stitch and setting down his instruments. “I can tell you what I do know, though. I know that I don’t want this– I don’t want  _ us _ – to stop. And I know that no matter what happens, we’ll be okay.” 

“And that’s why I love you,” she says, looking down with a smile. “No one else has ever made me feel safe like you do. Even when you’re unsure about something, you immediately jump to what you do know, and you start thinking about how you can make things okay again.” She works on plucking a loose thread from her sweater while she tries to sort her thoughts out. “On days when it feels like things are falling apart, you’re the one who reminds me they can be put back together. Even when you don’t know you’re doing it.”

He hoists himself up onto the exam table and wraps an arm around her. She immediately melts into him, resting her head on his shoulder and exhaling. “I’m kind of scared,” she admits. “What if when we get home, things are different? What if we realize we’re not  _ us _ anymore?”

“If  _ us  _ only exists on the Hermes, I’d sign on for a million more rescue missions,” he says. “But even if we aren’t the same back home, that’s okay, too. We know how to be friends. In fact, we’re pretty damn good at it.”

“There you go again, making things fixable.”

“Is this my sweater?” He asks after a minute. 

She nods. “I swiped it this morning. You need it back?”

“Nope. In fact, you should keep it. Looks better on you than on me,” he smiles, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, you know?”

“I know,” she smiles. “Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual.”

“Lucky me.”

“Can I tell you something?” she asks suddenly. 

He nods. “Yeah, absolutely.”

“Remember the night I got, uh, hurt?” she asks, voice small. “Back in Houston a little after my ISS mission.”

He nods again. “Yeah, of course. Why? Is the scar giving you trouble? I did some research a couple years back about space conditions aggravating prior injuries, and it’s really possible that the-”

“No, no no no,” she insists. “I, uh, I don’t know if you remember… actually, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never forgotten something- not even once- so yeah, you definitely do remember.”   


“Remember what?” he asks, trying to think of what she could be thinking about. Whatever it is, it’s making her uncharacteristically nervous. 

“I told you I loved you that night,” she says. 

“Oh,” he says, the tiniest hint of a smile playing on his face. “Yeah, that.”

“Yeah, that. You never said anything.”

“I guess I didn’t. I mean, you were in pretty bad shape. And things were just so complicated with us. I figured you didn't mean it and you wouldn’t even remember in the morning.”

She frowns at him. “I just… I guess…” She chews her lip nervously. “I mean-”

“Beth,” he says, grabbing her hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “Relax. It’s me.”

She nods, inhaling deeply. “I guess the reason I’m bringing it up now is that I just want you to know that I meant it.”

“Wait, what?” he asks, a little taken aback. 

“You told me I was in shock- and I was- but that doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it. I think deep down I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you and you tried to scare me into quitting coffee with all your medical talk. I just didn’t realize it right away.”

He laughs out loud at the memory. “Yeah, you weren’t the only one.”

“I should’ve told you again,” she says. “I mean, the idea of Ares was a part of why I didn’t, but most of it was that I didn’t know how you felt, and the possibility of ruining our friendship was really scary. Scarier than you not knowing how I felt, I guess.”

“It’s you, you know,” he says without hesitation. “It’s always been you, Beth. I’ve been loving you for so, so long, y’know? And I tried not to, but that didn’t work. So please just let me love you, because I have no other choice. I was a goner from day one.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” she says with a laugh, but the wetness in her eyes leaves no doubt in Chris’s mind that the feeling is mutual. 

“More like which higher power did I piss off to end up with you?” he replies. She shoves him playfully before resting her head against his shoulder. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply.

“You and me… we’re gonna be fine, right?” she asks after a minute. 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course we are. But I think you know that.”

She nods, lifting her head up to meet his lips in a kiss. 

He hops down from the exam table and opens one of the drawers. “What color band-aid do you want?” he asks, nodding in the direction of her freshly sutured leg. 

“Hmmm,” she muses, tapping her chin and pretending to mull it over. “Purple,” she finally says. He looks up at her with bright eyes and a toothy grin. 

Yeah, they’re gonna be just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN. 
> 
> story end notes in the following chapter. xoxoxo


	19. STORY END NOTES

As requested, here's a list of all the songs used for chapter titles:

 

Ultraviolet - The Stiff Dylans  
How I Want Ya - Hailee Steinfeld  
Ride - Twenty One Pilots  
Tear In My Heart - Twenty One Pilots  
Wherever You Will Go - The Calling  
TALK ME DOWN -Troye Sivan  
Through The Dark - One Direction  
Crash And Burn - Thomas Rhett  
Stand By You - Rachel Platten  
Ship To Wreck - Florence and the Machine  
Just Can’t Let Her Go - One Direction  
I Wish You Would - Taylor Swift  
Avalanche - Walk the Moon  
Please Don’t Go - Joel Adams  
Temporary Fix - One Direction  
Please Don’t Say You Love Me - Gabrielle Aplin  
Something Great - One Direction  
Bonfire Heart - James Blunt

 

Yes, I listen to a lot of One Direction. And yes, the first song is from Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging. And, of course, the story title comes from "for him." by Troye Sivan:

_You don't have to say I love you to say I love you_   
_Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons_   
_We've been making shades of purple out of red and blue_   
_Sickeningly sweet like honey, don't need money_   
_All I need is you_

 

Most importantly, thank you guys so much for reading and commenting and honestly just loving these characters and The Martian as much as I do. I almost can’t believe i actually finished this story!! I totally love Chris and Beth and I want to keep writing stuff for them so keep your eyes peeled-- and if you want to request any prompts, you can drop me a comment below. Thank you guys so much for being the best and always making my day brighter :)))

 

If you have any thoughts to share in the comments, I would love love love to hear them one last time. 

XO

 


End file.
